This was also the home of the sentinels. Being as much machine as human, they needed constant maintenance. The mechanics at the patrol station looked after the sentinels day and night, replacing worn out parts, lubricating their machinery, and installing upgrades. With a dozen sentinels patrolling the streets, they had no problem keeping the mechanics busy.
When I arrived, I stood on the street outside for a moment, watching them through the windows. I saw a few Vangar soldiers sitting at a table in the front of the building, talking and gambling over a card game. Behind them, I saw a mechanic working on one of the sentinels, probably repairing the damage I had caused when I escaped the city. That brought a small smile to my lips.
I knew that there were more of them in there. More Vangars, more sentinels. I was walking into a lion’s den. The only advantage I had was that of surprise. Tinker used to have a saying about war: “Where the enemy is strongest, he is also weakest.” I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I hoped it was true. I was about to find out. In the next few minutes I’d either be dead or on my way to destroying the Vangars once and for all.
I took a deep breath and thought: This is it. This is what you’ve always wanted to do…
I charged up the steps and kicked open the front doors. The Vangars looked up from their card game, their eyes widening with surprise as I leapt into the room and kicked the nearest warrior in the face. He flipped over backwards in his chair, crashing loudly to the floor. His legs shot up as he fell, knocking over the table and spilling cards and coins everywhere.
The soldier to my right leapt up from his chair and took a step in my direction, his hand forming into a fist. I lowered my center of gravity. As he came at me, my leg shot out like a piston. I focused every ounce of strength I had, aiming a kick at the side of his knee. The heel of my boot connected solidly and I felt the bone cracking as his knee bent at an awkward angle.
The Vangar went sprawling, arms flailing, a wild howl escaping his lips. As he tumbled, I spun around and smashed my elbow into his nose. If my aim had been a little better I might have actually killed him. As it was, the cartilage shattered and blood fountained down my arm as he dropped to the floor next to me. A third Vangar flew out of his chair and came at me with a dagger. I avoided him by leaping over the table. I landed directly in front of the sentinel.
He was sitting in a massive chair that had been specially designed to hold his weight. He couldn’t move because he was still attached to some sort of machine, but he took a swing at me the instant I got within reach. The mechanic was between us, and he took the brunt of the blow. The sentinel’s swing caught him on the side of the chest and the mechanic flew backwards, pushing me out of the way as he tumbled across the room. Glass shattered as he crashed through the front windows and landed on the sidewalk out front.
I stumbled back, reaching out to catch my balance on the back of a chair. Unfortunately, I fell right into the open arms of a very angry Vangar. I instantly felt the cold steel of his dagger at my throat and his hot breath on the back of my neck. It occurred to me that I may have made my entrance a bit too dramatic.
“Time to die, little girl,” he said in his native language. After a lifetime of being surrounded by Vangars, I know their language well enough to understand most of what they say. I just never speak it.
The sentinel grinned and leaned back in his chair, watching us. The others circled around, licking their lips like wolves encircling a wounded deer. One of the others yelled, “We have her! We’ve got the girl!”
Off to my left, a door swung open and a man stepped into the room. I could see the dark blur of his shape in the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t turn my head for fear of drawing that sharp blade across my neck. The man sucked in a deep raspy breath, and I heard the sound of machinery: Click, whir, thump. Click, whir thump. Click, whir thump. He exhaled slowly, and then sucked in another deep, rattling breath. Click, whir thump, click whir thump.
The sound followed him as he crossed the room, and I gasped as he appeared in front of me. He was an older man, around sixty, and most definitely not a Vangar. But he wasn’t human anymore, either. He was as much machine as man. He wasn’t like the sentinels, though. A brass mask of tiny gears and springs covered half his face and I saw them move every time he took a breath or made a facial movement. Several metal tubes coiled out of the mask and connected to a similar-looking metal plate mounted across the center of his chest.
Click, whir thump. Click, whir thump.
His left arm was gone, replaced by more machinery. From what I could tell, most of the mechanisms were powered by springs and hydraulic pressure, not unlike the sentinels. I’d never seen the man before, but I instantly knew him by reputation. He was the overseer, something like a governor. According to the stories I’d heard, all of that machinery didn’t just make him stronger. It was keeping him alive.
“Can we have her, Overseer?” one of the Vangars said. That was the one whose nose I’d broken. He had a dagger in his hand and I could see that he planned to use it on me.
The overseer looked me over. “Bring her to my chamber,” he said.
The Vangar behind me relaxed his grip, and the one with the broken nose tossed me over his shoulder. I put up a struggle as we headed for the stairs, but not too much. After all, I didn’t actually want to escape. The whole point of me going there had been to get caught. I did take advantage of the opportunity to jam my elbow in his eye though, and I was rewarded to see instant swelling. His response was to twist suddenly sideways, ramming my head into the wall. It was painful enough that I gave up any pretense of fighting. I went limp as he hauled me to the next floor and down a dark hallway.
The Vangar paused in front of a set of tall wooden doors. He set me down long enough to open them, and then dragged me inside. A sense of unease washed over me as I glanced around the room. It was a large, luxurious space, but the furnishings were sparse and worn. I saw a tall brass bed off to my right, and directly in front of it, a set of heavy chains bolted to the floor. The dark stains on the wooden floor could only have been from blood. That was when I realized I may have gotten myself into more trouble than I could handle.
I tried to pull out of the Vangar’s grip, but I may as well have been locked in a vice. “Keep it up,” he said in a dark voice, taunting me. Then he twisted my arm within an inch of breaking it. A moan escaped my lips and he laughed. “I’ll break you into pieces, girl.”
“Not today, Wulvine.” The overseer appeared in the doorway behind us. “You may leave now.”
“But-”
“Leave,” the overseer repeated. Click, whir, thump. “Notify me when my flight is ready.”
Wulvine shot me a dark glare as he left the room. The overseer waited for the door to close before he turned to smile at me. I think it was a smile. It was hard to be sure under all that machinery. “Sit,” he said, gesturing at the bed. I glanced at it and went tense.
“I usually prefer Tal’mar women,” he said casually. “They’re so delicate, so refined. So breakable. But you… there’s something special about you, River.”
“How do know my name?”
He smiled again, or something like it. His face whirred and clicked, and I saw teeth appear behind his thin lips. “Do you know who I am?”
“You’re the overseer.”
“Ah, yes, overseer. The judge, the mayor, the lord of this garbage heap.” He leaned in close, staring into my eyes. “You don’t really know though, do you? Tell me, have you ever wondered how a human came to rule over this city? How was it that I, a mere human, not only became accepted by the Vangars but even empowered? Why do you suppose they made me overseer?”
“You’re a turncoat,” I said, glaring at him. “You sold out your own kind.”
“True. It’s all true, but I don’t think you know the whole story. Did the tinkerman ever tell you who I really am?”
He stood back, watching my face, smiling that twisted smile. “My name is Gile Rutherford. I used to be the may
or of Riverfork.”
“What’s a river-fork?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
He made a tsk tsk sound. “Old Tinkerman didn’t tell you anything did he?”
“He told me how to kill Vangars!” I snarled.
“Oh, I believe that. I wonder why, though. I wonder why he never told you about me.” He tapped his chin with a mechanical finger as he considered this question. Then he turned his gaze back on me. “Do you know that your mother saved my life once?”
I snorted.
“It’s true!” he said. “There I was, with a knife to my throat and a thousand voices cheering for my death. Your mother touched me and somehow… somehow she knew that I had a bad heart. She took pity on me. She let me survive. Without her, I wouldn’t have lived another day, much less all the years it took for me to gain this position. I owe all I have to your mother.”
My fist knotted up and my arm flashed out. I took a swing at him without even thinking about it. I threw all my years of backstreet fighting into that one blow, and I expected to at least knock out a few teeth. I never even touched him. I saw a blur of motion and found my arm frozen in space, an inch from his face. The overseer’s mechanical hand squeezed my wrist, forcing my arm back, twisting it around, his face contorted in a wicked smile…
The bone in my wrist snapped like a twig. A jarring pain shot up and down my entire body, and a primal scream escaped my lips. Bile churned up in my stomach as my hand flopped loosely in his grip. I tried to pull away but it was futile. Rutherford’s smile vanished, and he gave me a shove. I toppled over backwards, flying over the couch. I landed in a heap across his desk. Parchment and inkwells scattered, spilling out across the desk, glass shattering as it hit the wooden floorboards.
Spots swam in my vision. I moved slowly, cautiously pulling my broken wrist out from under me as I struggled back to my feet. I turned, leaning back against Rutherford’s desk, grabbing my broken wrist with my good hand. I twisted it, attempting to reset the bones. An involuntary scream rattled my throat as the bones ground together and I had to force myself not to vomit. Blood trickled from my nose.
I stood there a moment, swaying back and forth as I grappled with unconsciousness. Gradually, the floor beneath my feet became firm again. I blinked away the spots and cast a wary glance at the overseer. He hadn’t moved.
I grimaced, my good hand searching the desk behind me for something -anything- that I might use as a weapon. My fingers closed on a dull steel blade and I recognized it as a letter opener. Click, whir, thump.
“As I was saying,” Rutherford continued, “it was your mother who saved me. She set me free, knowing that I didn’t have long to live. She was right about that. I made it out of the city, but I had to swim across the river. My heart gave out halfway across. Fortunately, an escaping Vangar warrior found me and brought me back to his masters.
“I survived, but my body was wrecked. I had lost the ability to speak, or even move half of my body. But the Vangars found a way to fix that.” He held his mechanical fist in the air, smiling, admiring it. “They made me good as new… even better.”
The door flew open and Wulvine stepped into the room. He glanced at the mayor, confused for a moment, then saw me leaning up against the desk. A grin broke out across his face as he saw the blood running down my chin and my broken wrist dangling at my side.
“Overseer, your flight is ready. I can tell the pilot to wait-”
“No,” Rutherford cut him off. “I’ll finish this later.”
Wulvine nodded and then turned his attention to me. “This way, girl,” he said in an amused tone. I stepped away from the desk, deftly sliding the letter opener under my belt at the small of my back.
Wulvine guided us to an elevator down the hall and pulled the iron gate shut behind us. He kept a wary eye on me as he pulled a switch on the wall. Somewhere in the darkness below, I heard the hiss of steam and the groaning sound of gears turning. Slowly, we began to rise. The elevator ascended through the roof, settling in front of a landing pad.
Before us waited a Vangar dirigible, one of the smaller airships often used for short local trips and hauling light loads. Wulvine pulled back the gate, ushering us out onto the landing area. We stepped into the shadow of the ship’s massive air balloon, and proceeded up the boarding ramp.
“Put her in chains,” Rutherford said over his shoulder as he stomped toward the nearest stairwell. “When we dock, take her to my private quarters.”
Wulvine gave me a shove toward the edge of the main deck. I saw shackles and anchors lining the floor, dangerously close to the cannons. I thrust my shoulder back against him defiantly and gave him a violent stare. He smirked and said:
“You want to fight me?”
I didn’t. The pain in my arm had receded to a dull throbbing ache, so long as I didn’t move my wrist. It was black and blue, and swelling quickly. I threw my gaze at the floor and trudged over to the chains without a fight. Wulvine followed with a smirk on his face.
He locked a slave collar around my throat and shackled my ankles to a chain. I’d seen the collars before. They were made of heavy leather and lined with steel that made them impossible to cut off. The process of clamping the collar together required tongs and a red-hot metal pin. I screamed as Wulvine pressed the hot metal to my throat. The smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils. He laughed at my pain as he put the tongs away. Then, for good measure, he threw another pair of shackles on my wrists. I begged him not to, but he did it anyway. A moan escaped my lips as the cold metal buckled over my swollen injury.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Wulvine said with a laugh as he turned away. He went to join the rest of the ships’ crew and left me there. I mumbled something about killing him but my heart wasn’t in it. I leaned up against the rail, biting my lower lip, hatred burning in my eyes as I watched him leave. I was going to kill him. I didn’t know how or when, but I swore to myself that I’d do it. And the overseer, too. I was going to make Rutherford pay, not just for what he’d done to me, but for what he’d done to all of us.
The captain appeared on deck a few minutes later and began ordering his men to release the ties and trim the sails. As the ship finally took flight, the full truth of my situation settled on me. I had been too caught up in the moment to realize it until then, too concerned with my pain until I saw the ground fall away and I had the horrifying realization that I wasn’t going to the slave mines at all. Overseer Rutherford was taking me somewhere else entirely.
Rutherford was taking me to Juntavar, the Vangar sky city that hovered over the plains east of Avenston, halfway to the Blackrock Mountains. I knew this for a fact because I’d seen the steam locomotives coming and going from the mines for my entire life. The railroad went straight to the mines and right through Avenston, right up to the docks. There was no need for us to board an airship to go to the mines when the train could easily get us there in a few hours. No, I was sure of it. We were going to Juntavar.
My entire plan had hinged on the fact that I’d be sent to the mines. My plan had already failed. Worse yet, there was no way that Crow could find me in the sky city. He wouldn’t even get close without the Vangars seeing him. I was on my own.
Chapter 7
I settled onto the deck, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my arm as I leaned back against the rail and stared at the great black mass of a balloon hovering in the sky overhead. What now? was all I could think. What could I possibly do now? I had made an incalculable mistake. I had handed myself over to the Vangars for nothing. I was a fool.
Given enough time and a bit of privacy, I thought I might be able to pick the lock on my shackles, but even if I did somehow manage to get out of my chains, I’d never make it back to the ground. The Vangars would be all over me in a heartbeat. The only way to escape them was to jump, and that wasn’t an option. I closed my eyes, searching for an idea, and a wave of dizziness washed over me. I felt myself drifting into a comatose sleep. I shrugged it off. My body was in shock. It was import
ant to stay awake, to keep my mind working.
I thought about Crow and my mother and reflected on all that I had learned. I was still getting used to the idea that I had real living relatives. I never would have expected it, but I found myself thinking of Crow less as a stranger and more like a part of me; a part I had never known but had always been there.
Then there was the city, Sanctuary, and the shocking history lesson Crow had given me. It was all so much to digest. On an emotional level, I was still recovering from it all. It was more than enough to keep my mind distracted, and almost before I realized it, the crewmen were preparing to dock.
I rose unsteadily to my feet and watched the lights of the city growing in the distance. Juntavar appeared first as a massive shadow, the lights twinkling like stars against the horizon. Then it began to take form. I had never seen the city in person, but I had heard stories of it all my life. The Vangars had designed their airships in such a way that they could be connected during flight. The reason for this became clear after their initial invasion, when they banded dozens of ships together to create a flying city. The idea was brilliant, and probably something they had conceived long before they ever came to Astatia. The Vangars had a long and violent history of conquering other kingdoms for their resources. A city like Juntavar was the perfect way to rule over conquered territories. Their subjects would never revolt and breach that city. Not without a hundred airships, and that would simply never happen.
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