I considered that. Perhaps Analyn was right. If we did successfully kill a dozen sentinels, the Vangars would be concerned -or more likely angry- enough to pursue us into the Wastes. “I almost believe it could work,” I said absently.
“You’d better hope it does.”
“I have to hurry,” I said, turning away. “If I run, I might catch them before the sentinels attack.”
“Before you leave, heed my words: Your mother waited to share herself with the man she loved, and then she lost him. They could have had many years together.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I muttered.
“May your ancestors guide your footsteps,” she said quietly as I vanished down the hall.
On my way out of the city, I took a minute to gather up my revolver, the rifle, and the ammo bag I’d dropped when Rutherford attacked me. From what I could tell in the darkness, the rifle appeared to be undamaged. I put a fresh charge in the barrel and pressed the stock to my shoulder as I walked toward the gates, my finger resting on the trigger. The memory of Rutherford’s attack was still fresh in my mind and I wasn’t taking any chances. The next sentinel I saw was getting shot in the face.
I cautiously exited the city and turned in a slow circle, making sure I was alone. That was when I noticed the flickering light of a lantern a hundred yards away, just up the riverbank. I grinned as I recognized the silhouetted shape of Rutherford’s steamcoach parked in a stand of trees along the river.
I found the carriage empty and the boiler still full of pressure. I shouldn’t say the carriage was empty. Rutherford had left behind two high-quality rifles, a large ammo kit, and several days’ worth of food. I wasted no time. I climbed into the driver’s seat, propped Analyn’s rifle up next to me within easy reach, and released the brake. Seconds later, I was flying along the plains as fast as I could.
It wasn’t long before I saw the fires burning along the edge of the Blackrock Mountains. I had instructed Kale to set fires along the way so the Vangars could easily follow his path. Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t. I cursed myself for not planning better. If anyone had known how fast the sentinels could travel, it should have been me. I should have known they would need more time. Crow must have realized this when he rescued me and brought me to Analyn. If not for that, the entire mission might have been doomed.
I felt like a fool. The fires had given the sentinels a path right to the rebels. In my effort to make sure the Vangars found Sanctuary, I had all but guaranteed they’d find the rebels first and kill them.
I saw a fire burning a few miles to the south, and another in the hills up ahead. I headed for the nearest one. The steamcoach’s lanterns cast pale yellow circles across the path ahead, illuminating changes in the terrain that I barely had time to avoid. I pushed my luck by driving faster than I should have, and twice it nearly cost me. The first was a boulder that seemed to appear out of nowhere. I nearly crashed the coach, turning to avoid it. As I swerved, the rear end lost traction and the rear corner of the coach smashed into the boulder as I zoomed past. I glanced back and decided there wasn’t any major damage. I pressed on.
The second near-fatal accident happened when the earth suddenly gave way in front of me. For a split-second, I thought I might have found another collapsed tunnel. Then, as the front end went out from under me and I found myself free-floating over the bench seat, the lanterns illuminated the bottom of an old dry creek bed. The coach hit the bottom, jarring the spring suspension to life. I came down as the bench seat rebounded. I landed so hard that the impact threw me in the air, up over the roof of the coach.
As I flipped over, I reached out and latched onto a luggage rail mounted to the roof. The carriage bounced beneath me, swinging me down hard against the roof. My knees hit first. As they slammed into the light wooden panels, the roof gave way and I suddenly found myself lying across the roof of the carriage with my legs stuck through the roof.
I stretched, reaching for the front bar, pulling myself forward. I had to twist and kick at the wooden panels before they would release me. By then, the carriage was already up the far embankment and heading out across the plains. Ignoring the bone-jarring ride and the deep painful scrapes across my midsection, I pulled myself over the front of the coach and dropped back onto the seat. I reached for the controls and realized that Analyn’s rifle was gone. My revolver was lying on the floor. Sadly, I didn’t have time to go back. I did however, reduce my speed somewhat.
The fire wasn’t nearly so high in the mountains as I’d first thought. Kale had led the group up an old logging road that cut a broad, overgrown swath back and forth up the mountainside. Navigating the old road was a challenge, but even so I could still travel faster by steamcoach than foot, so I pressed on.
When I finally reached the fire, I locked the wheel brakes and walked the area on foot. My heart sank as I saw the deep imprints of the sentinels’ steel boots in the bare earth, following the trail northeast into the mountains. Finding nothing else of interest, I climbed back onto the coach.
I followed their tracks for as long as I could. Eventually, the old logging trail gave way to impassable slopes and dense undergrowth and I had to abandon the vehicle to follow the narrow trail on foot. I loaded up with all that I could carry, taking the ammunition and rifles of course, and also a good store of food.
Shouldering my burden, I stepped away from the carriage and began my trek into the mountains. A few minutes later, as I turned to follow the trail up a steep slope, something in the sky to the south caught my attention. I froze, staring into the distance, gradually making out the shape of a dragon ship against the backdrop of stars. Then, behind it, I saw another, and then a third. My heart froze in my chest.
No, I thought as I stared at those dark masses hovering over the southern plains.
I realized then that despite everything, our plan had actually worked. As a matter of fact, it had work too well. My mother had expected us to get the Vangars’ attention. Well, we had done that. Regardless of all the wonderful things I’d heard about Sanctuary, I doubted the Tal’mar would be ready to confront three dragon ships at once. I dropped everything, even the rifles. I broke into a run up the steep mountain trail.
I hadn’t gone a mile when I heard the sounds of fighting up above. I put on a burst of speed, tearing through the underbrush, leaping fallen logs and stones that jutted out along the trail. I saw flashes of light to the north and I left the path, carving my own way up the mountainside. Tree limbs snapped painfully at my face and my arms as I ran. Tall ferns covered in dewy moisture slapped my skin, and in no time my leathers were soaking wet.
Analyn had described the place to me. I didn’t remember much from the time I’d spent there in my youth, but I was surprised to notice a sense of familiarity with that mountain. I recognized the smell of moss-covered evergreens and wild jasmine, and the scent of dark, musty earth. There was something else, something familiar to me about the shape of the land and the view of the plains that stretched out behind me. Somehow, I knew exactly where I was going.
A sudden explosion at the top of the mountain lit up the night, shaking the entire mountainside. I stopped and felt the earth vibrate under my feet as I watched a pillar of light extend up into the heavens. A dark gray cloud formed, rising up like a mushroom into the sky. I noticed uneasily that there was a strange sort of blue luminescence to it. I though of Crow and his vials of starfall, and couldn’t help but wonder if the sentinels had gotten hold of him.
I felt a sick churning in my stomach and I had the horrible thought that Crow might have sacrificed himself the way that Tinker had, and my father... I threw caution to the wind and put on a burst of speed, no longer concerned about how much noise I made on my way up the mountain.
As I reached the plateau, I found the mountaintop covered in a deep fog. I saw flashes of light here and there and realized they were from multiple fires around the encampment. I went forward with my revolver drawn, my senses alert, eyes scanning for any s
ign of life. I heard movement up ahead, heavy breathing and the sound of whirring gears. Sentinel, I thought. Cautiously, I moved forward.
The luminescent gray-blue fog drifted around me, and I saw a dark shape appear on the ground up ahead. It was too large to be a man. It was a sentinel, and he seemed to be wounded. I trained my sites on him, not making a sound as I cautiously approached.
“That’s three!” someone said off to my right. I froze, my eyes searching the fog.
“Four here!”
I heard footsteps running toward me and I swung my revolver around, searching for a target. A man appeared, jogging out of the fog. His face was covered in smudges of ash and coal and his clothes were tattered. He came to a stumbling halt as he saw me. A second man appeared out of nowhere and ran right into him. They tumbled to the ground at my feet.
“River?” the second man said, looking up at me. It was Mal Tanner, the slave I’d met on the train.
I drew my gaze away, scanning the fog, listening intently for signs of trouble. “What happened here?” I said in a low voice.
Mal pushed himself upright and then helped his friend get back to his feet. “Crow set a trap,” he said.
“I’ll say,” said his partner. “The mother of all traps! Nearly blew off the whole mountaintop.”
Others came out of the fog then, apparently attracted by the sound of our voices. Kale was among them. “That’s seven!” he called out triumphantly, staring at the sentinel at our feet. Then he noticed me standing among the others and threw his arms around me, lifting me into the air. I looked down at him, noticing his scarred cheek and his deep blue eyes, and felt an unfamiliar stirring deep in my chest. Suddenly, I couldn’t be sure if I wanted to slap his face or kiss him.
I was dumbstruck by the feeling. I had been worried about Kale, but I didn’t realize how much until that moment. When the mountain blew up my first thought had been of Kale. I was terrified that something had happened to him, that he had been killed in the explosion or captured by the sentinels. I took a deep breath.
“Put me down,” I said quietly, trying not to let him hear the emotions rattling around inside me. He complied, but he couldn’t resist giving me a peck on the cheek as I settled to the ground.
“Careful,” I said. “Nena might see.”
His jaw dropped and he stared at me, confused for a moment, as if he had completely forgotten about her. Then he stepped away, forcing a smile. “Right,” he mumbled. “Of course.”
“Eight!” someone called out at the north end of the camp.
“Are there more?” I said.
“We didn’t get a count of them,” Kale said. “They were chasing us up the mountainside in the dark. I don’t think there were more than a dozen, though. If any survived, I don’t think they’ll come back for us.”
“Two more to the west,” Crow’s voice said in the mist above us. He whooshed down to land next to me. “I saw a survivor headed south. I think there was another behind him, but I couldn’t be sure.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “You had all of this planned out?”
“Not until we got here,” Kale said. “That was when we knew we’d have to fight.”
“Analyn convinced me of that,” Crow said. “And she was right. We wouldn’t have even made it out of the mountains with those sentinels chasing us.”
“That won’t be a problem now,” Kale said, clapping him on the back. “The bomb was your brother’s idea. We set up one of the tents and made it look like we were hiding inside. It never even occurred to the Vangars that it was a trap.”
“Well it seems to have worked,” I said, “but I’m not sure it helped matters.”
They both stared at me. “What are you talking about?” said Kale. “This is just what you planned. We can head straight into the Wastelands now without worrying about the Vangars.”
I sighed. “When I came across the plains, I saw three airships headed this way. There might even be more. And we just turned this whole mountaintop into a torch, guiding them right to us.”
They glanced at each other, both thinking the same thing. “Pack up!” Kale shouted, turning away. “Everyone pack up. Take as much as you can carry. We have to move, now!”
Crow gave me a worried look. “Get them moving,” he said. “I’ll fly south and get a count of the airships.”
“Be careful,” I warned. “They’re well armed.”
“Don’t worry, sister. They won’t even see me.”
He vanished into the fog and I found myself standing alone in the middle of the camp. I heard the sound of voices all around me, of the rebels hurrying to pick up whatever weapons or supplies they could find, of Kale pushing them to move faster, work harder. A frosty wind blew across the mountaintop, clearing the fog and kissing my face with the taste of ice and snow. I walked to the edge of the plateau and saw the peak of the next mountain and beyond it, the radiance of starlight reflected on snow.
“We’re coming mother,” I whispered under my breath. “I hope you’re ready for us.”
End: Part One
A brief interlude:
The City in the Wastes
1
(Breeze Tinkerman, many years earlier)
I dreamed of ice.
Winter in my mind: a maelstrom of snow, savage winds, and bitter, icy cold. In my dream I found myself in Tinker’s little valley where I had lived and grown as a child. I was next to the stream behind his tiny cottage. I stood alongside the frozen banks, staring down at the falls where the water had frozen into a perfect cascade of rippling icicles filled with color and dancing light, the water beneath sliding quietly by, tempting, beckoning.
I stepped closer, kneeling down, dragging my fingertips across the smooth glistening surface. The icy cold bit into my flesh, numbness spreading across my hands with the slow menacing inescapability of a poison. I watched the light and colors dancing hypnotically just beneath the surface, luring me in, hypnotizing me.
I heard a voice in the distance, low and muffled by the wind, and I wondered at the sound. I knew somehow that it must be Tinker. I struggled to pull my gaze away from that ice, but I couldn’t. It held me spellbound, lost, trapped in a prison as clear as glass.
My mind reached out to him, searching. I heard Tinker’s voice like a whisper on the wind, calling out to me. Breeze, where are you? Come back!
Cold, I said in my mind. Tinker, I’m so cold!
Keep moving, child. Keep moving!
And my eyelids fluttered open.
2
I woke shivering, blinking against the brilliant white light of morning. I was lying on the ground, my body covered in a layer of fresh powdery snow. My mind was a haze of fleeting images and sharp, painful cold. As I moved, my body cried out. The memories came flooding back to me.
The crash had broken my leg. I’d spent several excruciating hours struggling to reunite the shattered pieces of bone and mend them sufficiently to support my weight. I had lost consciousness several times during this process and succumbed to the cold a bit more each time. When at last I could move, I had slowly crawled to my feet and dragged myself back to the wreckage of my plane.
My teeth were chattering like gears in one of Tinker’s windup toys and my body shook in a strange frightful way that I could watch like an impartial observer, but I couldn’t make it stop. A howling, frigid wind came roaring across the Wastes, growing in intensity until I thought it might bury me in snow. I was cold, numb enough that I almost wished that it would. I was ready to die, or so I thought.
As I lay there, waiting for the numbness to spread to the rest of my body, I thought of my daughter. I saw her face, the light dancing in her eyes as her carefree expression suddenly became serious. No, mother! she seemed to say.
That was my River, placid and serene one moment, a raging torrent the next. Her mood could change in a heartbeat, and she was so strong. Willful and fearless, too. Her courage was like nothing I’d ever
seen in a child.
I suddenly felt ashamed for being so weak, so ready to give in. I owed River more than that. I had promised to come back to her; had promised I wouldn’t be gone long. What did she think of me now, I wondered.
I pushed myself upright, mumbling incoherent words that may have made sense to me at the time but almost certainly would have been a steady stream of nonsensical gibberish to anyone listening. I managed to gather an armload of the pieces of my wrecked plane. Slowly, methodically, I kindled a small fire. With numb and shaking hands, I doused the wood in lantern fuel and then located the flint in my pack. After several clumsy attempts, I finally managed a spark. Instantly, the wood was alight.
As the flames licked into the air, I stood over the fire, letting the warmth caress my shivering skin. The heat worked slowly through my jacket and my boots, warming my flesh and gradually raising the temperature of my body until at some point, I stopped shivering. I didn’t notice it happen. The numbness in my limbs gave way to tingling, and then to deep, aching pain. Gradually, this too subsided.
I didn’t realize I wasn’t shivering anymore until I felt the first pang of hunger in my gut. I ignored it at first. I was too tired, too exhausted to get back to my feet and find some food. But the hunger persisted. It would not be denied. Eventually, when my discomfort grew disproportionate to my lethargy, I complied. I located the pack and rummaged through it, searching for the food Tinker had packed for me. I tore into it like a ravenous wolf.
My body was desperate for food. At some point after my crash, I had healed my broken leg, but the process had left me nutritionally starved. Looking back later, I realized that I’d nearly killed myself just as surely as the snow. I should have had the presence of mind to go for the food, to see to my material needs before trying to heal myself. In the end, I’d nearly sealed my own fate.
Blood and Steam (The Tinkerer's Daughter) Page 16
