“Drink this,” a woman’s voice said. She appeared next to me, her face hidden in shadow as she bent forward, pressing a cup to my lips. The liquid spilled over my face as I sipped it. I swallowed quickly and the liquid was already down my throat before the bitter flavor overwhelmed me. I started to gag.
“Hold it down,” she said gently. “It will ease your pain.” She reached out, touching my forehead with a warm, calloused hand. I noted wrinkles and age marks on her skin as she pulled away. My eyelids grew heavy and consciousness danced just out of reach, like a bird on the wing. Once again, I succumbed.
As I drifted back to sleep, I saw something strange. I blinked as the old woman moved across the room and a man appeared next to her. He was tall, dark haired, dressed in the traditional clothes of a Tal’mar. I had just enough sense to realize that what I was seeing didn’t make sense, and then my eyelids slid shut and the world twisted away.
Hours later, or maybe days, I woke. I gradually became conscious of the sound of the old woman quietly humming to herself. The scent of food filled my nostrils, and my stomach rumbled hungrily. I opened my eyes and once again found myself staring at that heavy wooden beam. Beyond, I saw earth and stone and realized that I was in some sort of cave.
I lowered my gaze to watch the old woman. She was seated in an old rocking chair next to a makeshift fireplace. It was little more than a fire pit in the cave wall, with a series of tin pipes for a chimney leading up through the ceiling.
“Smoke,” I mumbled awkwardly. “Sentinels.”
The old woman turned to look at me, a smile warming her wrinkled features. “Don’t worry about them,” she said. “The creatures that were chasing you are gone.”
“Sentinels,” I said weakly, my tongue thick in my mouth. I moved, trying to push myself upright. My body ached right down to the bones, but not as badly as before. Gradually, I made it to a sitting position. I glanced down and realized that I had been sleeping on a cot, covered in heavy furs. A glass of water rested on a small table next to me. I reached for it and gulped it down.
“Slowly,” she said. “You haven’t eaten in three days. You’ll get sick if you don’t take it slow.”
My stomach rumbled queasily in agreement. I glanced around the room, taking it in. The woman had decorated her cave with sparse furnishings that looked like stolen antiques. I saw a small oak table with matching chairs, a bookshelf, and several other odd, out of place furnishings. I noted that all of them were either small enough for one person to move, or could be disassembled and moved one piece at a time. The old woman had been living there by herself for some time, possibly years.
“Where is the man?” I said weakly. “The Tal’mar?”
She glanced at me and then turned her face back to the fire. “You’ve been dreaming,” she said. “There’s no one here but the two of us.”
I frowned, trying to force the images in my head to clear. Perhaps she was right. Maybe it had been a dream. I couldn’t tell. “How long have you been here?” I said.
The old woman paused in her knitting, considering my question. “To be honest, I don’t exactly know,” she said. She shook her head and laughed quietly. “The days sort of bleed together. I suppose I lost track at some point, and never bothered to catch up. Sometimes I fall asleep when I’m reading. When I wake, I’m not sure if it’s the same day or the next.” She bent her head down and went right back to her knitting.
“This is your bed,” I said with a hint of guilt in my voice. “Where have you been sleeping?”
“Here in my chair, of course. Don’t feel bad. I do it all the time. I like it here, close to the fire. It warms my old bones.”
I watched her for a few minutes, trying to make sense of the strange old woman. Judging from her skin and face, she was about seventy. I couldn’t understand what she was doing in this place all alone. How had she survived?
“Where are we?” I said eventually. “Is this one of the Vangar mines?”
“No, this tunnel is older than that by a few hundred years, at least.”
“Who built it?”
“The men who first came here, I suppose. The men who first started mining copper and iron to make things.”
She spoke in a distant voice, almost as if she could remember the time. Judging by her looks, I wouldn’t have been surprised. “Is that stew?” I said, nodding toward the kettle on the fire.
“Nearly done,” she said. “Give it a few more minutes. It will be worth the wait.”
I was so starved I was about to gnaw off my own hand, but I kept my manners. I stood up from the cot, hoping to take my mind off the hunger pains in my stomach. Jolts of pain instantly shot up and down my body. I glanced down at the wound on my leg and saw that the old woman had cleaned it and sewed the skin back together. It looked hideous. I groaned.
“Gently,” the old woman said. “Don’t move too fast yet.”
I stepped out into the middle of the room. I saw a cave-in blocking off the path to my right, and the long open stretch leading out into darkness the other way. “Is that the way out?” I said.
“It can be,” she said cryptically. “If you know the way.”
I frowned, wondering if she was planning on keeping me down there. It wouldn’t have surprised me. The old woman was probably desperate for company. I wasn’t too worried. I knew I could get out of there if I really wanted to.
“I’m River,” I said, hoping to learn more about her. “What’s your name?”
She pulled her gaze away from her knitting long enough to look me up and down, and then she went right back to work. “Ana,” she said distantly. “My name is Ana.” She leaned forward and lifted the lid off the stew. “Bring bowls,” she said. “From the cabinet there. And some bread…”
We didn’t speak much as we ate. The old woman stared at me most of the time, which I tolerated because she had been kind to me and because I was too starved to do anything but shovel food into my mouth anyway. It was only after dinner that I started feeling normal enough to consider my situation.
“Did I really sleep for three days?” I said.
“Mostly. You talked in your sleep a lot, about wild dogs and boneshakers, whatever all that means. The fever will do that to a person, make you rant and rave senselessly.”
I nodded, drawing my gaze to the fire. I didn’t bother explaining that I knew exactly what the rantings meant. “Did you move down here when the Vangars came?” I said.
“No. I came here after they left.”
“Why here? You could have gone to Avenston, where you’d be safe.”
“Safe?” she said, laughing quietly. “Do you really believe that? No one is safe with the Vangars around. Sooner or later, they kill everyone.”
I considered that and found it hard to argue. I thought of Tinker and of Kale. Kale! It had been three days since the sentinels captured him. I rose from the table abruptly. “I have to go,” I said.
“Nonsense. There is nowhere to go.” She reached out to take my hand, but I pulled it away.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “The sentinels captured my friend. He’s in danger. He might already be-” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.
“You can’t do anything for your friend now,” she said patiently. “You need to rest, regain your strength.”
I turned away from her, walking toward the dark end of the tunnel. “I’ll find my own way out,” I said. I snatched a lantern off the table and started walking. As I vanished down the tunnel, the old woman took a deep breath and sighed.
Chapter 4
I quickly realized the meaning of Ana’s cryptic comment. Just a few yards away, the tunnel branched out in two different directions. From there I could see more tunnels spreading out in various directions. It became obvious that if I started randomly picking tunnels, I’d get hopelessly lost. I heard a shuffling sound and turned to see her coming my way, leaning heavily on a walking stick.
“Always right,” she said. “Don’t ever go
left. The second one on the left leads to a bottomless hole. There might be more.”
“Bottomless?” I said. “That’s not possible.”
She pulled the lantern from my hand and held it up between us, staring into my face. “If you don’t believe me, then go throw yourself in and find out!” She turned and went ambling down the tunnel to the right. I followed, biting my tongue, reminding myself that the crazy old woman probably hadn’t talked to a real human in years.
A minute later, we reached the end of the tunnel and climbed a narrow stone staircase up to a trapdoor. I shoved it open and found myself in the shell of a burned-out building. Ana followed me up. I helped her step across the crumbling remains of the foundation.
It was late afternoon and the heavens were painted in a hue of deep blue. Puffy scattered clouds broke up the sky, their texture so vivid and color so bright that I thought I might reach up and touch them. I glanced at Ana and saw her blinking against the light.
“Don’t get up here much these days,” she said. “It’s been a while.”
I considered that. “How do you find food?” I said. “I’m surprised you haven’t starved.”
“Oh, lots of root cellars down in the tunnels,” she said. “Lots of rats and ground squirrels, too.”
My stomach churned uneasily. “Ana, what kind of stew did you feed me?”
She smiled wickedly. “Probably best you don’t know.” She looked the other way and mumbled something under her breath. I distinctly heard the words, “City girl.”
Ana raised her walking stick and pointed down the street, toward the south end of the city. “What you’re looking for is down there,” she said. “That steam contraption of yours.”
“The boneshaker?” I said. “It’s not steam-powered.”
She frowned, twisting up her face. “Burns oil then, like the Vangars?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head and spat on the ground. “Steam’s better. If Tinker taught you anything, he should’ve taught you that.”
My jaw fell open. “Tinker? You knew him?”
She waved me away and started back toward the tunnel. “Go get your contraption. See if you can fix it. I need a nap.”
I watched her curiously for a moment, my head suddenly full of questions. I could tell from Ana’s attitude that she wasn’t in the mood to answer them. She disappeared back into the tunnel. I shook my head.
“Crazy old woman,” I mumbled.
Following her instructions, I headed south down the street. I noticed that some of the buildings appeared almost whole, but I could tell by looking at them that they’d probably collapse on top of the first person who opened the door. They looked oddly out of place though, as if the owners had just left. I almost expected a light to go on in the upper windows of one house, even though the building next to it was nothing but a foundation and a few rotten timbers.
Further down the street I found the façade of a saloon, the boardwalk out front almost as good as new. The sign that dangled from the roof beckoned to the empty street as if the ghosts of the city’s past might come walking in at any moment. I cautiously stepped over the weeds and creaking boards in the boardwalk to peer through the broken windows. I saw grass growing up through the floor, and mold and mushrooms covering the walls. A few tables and chairs sat undisturbed, but most of them had been overturned and broken, probably during the Vangar invasion.
I saw bits and pieces of life here and there: the shredded remains of an apron on the bar, the tilted paintings and rusted curios on the walls. I suspected that there was far more of interest inside, and I was tempted to crawl through the window and go snooping around even though I knew the risks. I could scarcely imagine what sort of fascinating things might be waiting for an adventurer foolhardy enough to discover them. And not just in the saloon, either. The entire city was full of relics and treasures waiting to be discovered.
Not for me, though. Not now. Grudgingly, I pulled myself away and continued my journey toward the edge of town. There would be time to explore the ruins of Anora later. For now, I had other things to worry about. I had to find Kale, to free him, and wreak my vengeance on the Vangars.
As I passed through the remains of the city gates, I noticed the shattered and burned-out hulls of several dragon ships. Tinker had told me about the battle of Anora many times when I was younger, but I hadn’t paid much attention. I was mostly interested in hearing the parts about my mother and father. I vaguely remembered Tinker explaining that the city’s defenders had shot down several dragon ships using the Vangars’ own cannons. I scanned the area along the edge of the city and saw several of them, aging and discolored, barely visible in the deep grass.
That was the moment it became real to me. I realized that my mother and father might have stood or even fought on that very spot. It took my breath away. Pride welled up inside of me and I stood there soaking up the feeling. I turned slowly, taking in everything, noting the broken pieces of machinery peeking out from under the weeds and the wild grain. In my mind’s eye, the scene came to life and I heard all of the old stories echoing through my mind:
Vangar airships washed over the city in the middle of the night, pummeling the resistance with heavy cannon fire and flamethrowers. The citizens fought back using the Vangars’ own cannons against them, forcing them to land and bring the fight to the ground. With muskets and swords, the citizens could not overcome the Vangars, but the Vangars would pay a heavy toll.
They lost a thousand fighters before the uprising finally collapsed. In the process, the Vangars took the lives of several thousand insurgents. It was the last stand of the resistance and the bloodiest battle of the entire invasion. The fall of Anora soon became the stuff of legends…
At last I began to walk. I hardly noticed the weeds growing up through the cobblestones in the road. I kicked something and heard the clatter of metal against stone. I looked down and realized I’d just found my revolver. I scooped it up, examining it for damage. A few scratches, nothing more. I turned slowly, looking for the boneshaker, and saw it laying in the grass just a few yards off to my right.
I cautiously stepped off the road, remembering that somewhere in the area I had fallen into a collapsed tunnel. I had no desire to repeat that mistake. I tested the ground, slowly making my way over to the machine. Even before reaching it, I noticed that the front forks were twisted and a piece of metal had pierced the top of the engine. My heart fell. If I’d had the right parts and tools I might have been able to rebuild the boneshaker’s engine, but not there. Not among those ancient ruins, a hundred miles or more to the nearest civilization.
I slumped my shoulders. How was I going to free Kale if I couldn’t even get back to Avenston? That hike could take days. Out of anger and frustration, I kicked the front wheel and it made a click-clicking sound as it slowly spun around. Irritated, I bent over and grabbed the handlebar.
It took all my strength to get the boneshaker upright. I rested it on the kickstand and took a step back, surveying the damage. The forks needed rebuilding, as did the top-end of the engine. The carburetor had been knocked loose and I wasn’t sure what it would take to repair that. The fuel pipe had also been broken, allowing the fuel to run out all over the ground, not that there had been much left.
“Perfect,” I said, scowling. Even if I did get the engine repaired, where would I find the fuel to make it run?
I glanced at the old tool bag strapped to the handlebar and remembered that there had been a pair of saddlebags on the boneshaker, too. Was it possible that Tinker had stored some spare parts? I glanced around and saw them lying in the grass a few feet away.
As I bent to retrieve them, a cold chill crawled down my spine. I turned, my eyes searching the ruins around me. I was sure that someone had just been watching me. I saw nothing out of place. No color, no movement, just the ever-lengthening shadows creeping across the ruins of a long-dead ghost town.
I nervously threw the saddlebags over the seat and started pushing
the boneshaker back into the city, my eyes scanning the buildings, my hands never far from the revolver tucked into my belt. Even though I couldn’t see anything, I knew well enough to trust my senses. Somewhere out there, something was watching me.
Ana shared her stew with me again that night, and I cautiously avoided the subject of the ingredients. I noticed during the meal that her eyes kept straying to the chair where I had left Tinker’s saddlebags, with my revolver placed neatly on top. Eventually, I offered to let her see it. She accepted the weapon in her shaking old hands and turned it over. A slight smile turned up the corners of her mouth.
“Fine piece of craftsmanship,” she said.
“It was my mother’s,” I said proudly. “My father gave it to her as a gift when the Vangars invaded. This gun has spilled much Vangar blood.”
“You seem eager to spill more,” she observed, handing it back to me.
I nodded, taking a bite of bread. “Someday, the Vangars will beg for death,” I said around the mouthful of food.
She stared at me, the look on her face indecipherable. At last, she spoke: “I suppose you’d better get that machine running then.”
I reached for the saddlebags, and plopped them down on the table. “Hopefully, Tinker left some spare parts in here,” I said.
Ana frowned as I dropped the bags on the table. “You have the manners of a barn cow,” she muttered.
“I’m surprised you remember what barn cows are,” I said sarcastically. I pulled open the flap on one of the bags and found a book of some sort. I pulled it out and saw that the cover was blank. I flipped it open and saw pages of clean, precise handwriting.
“What have you there?”
“I’m not sure.” I scanned the first few pages, expecting to find some of Tinker’s recipes for powder charges or chemical ingredients. As I began to read, my mouth fell open. The first words on the first page read:
Blood and Steam (The Tinkerer's Daughter) Page 4
