In the midst of this thought, Vann came barreling down the hallway brandishing a pair of razor-sharp cleavers. When the cook caught sight of Micah, he let out a snarl and raised his weapons threateningly.
“Vann?” Micah said, throwing his hands up. He took a cautious step back. “What are you doing? Can’t you see it’s me, Micah?”
Vann blinked, frowning down at him. He lowered the cleavers. “Where’d it go?” he said.
“What? Where did what go?”
Vann glanced down the hallway behind Micah. His face twisted into a snarl of rage. “Got ya!” he shouted, pushing past the halfling. The cook hurried to the end of the car and began chopping at one of the communication pipes that ran along the wall. Micah watched for a moment, wondering if there was something there or not. He realized that whatever Vann thought he saw, wasn’t really there at all. Micah stepped backwards to the library door and ducked inside. The ringing sound of metal against metal followed him into the room. He slid the door shut and leaned back against it.
Micah shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but they were fuzzy. Wrong, he thought. Something’s wrong… But coherent thought danced out of reach like a bird on the wing. Micah took a dizzy step into the room and felt something twist under his feet. He winced, unable to look down. The shadows slithered around him, the hissing sounds of a thousand vipers radiating out of the darkness.
A few feet away, he caught sight of the ladder leading up to his private quarters in the attic. Micah leapt to the end of the car and flew up the ladder. He took one last peak at the slithering mass of serpents on the floor and slammed the door shut behind him. He lay sprawled on the attic floor, panting, the world tilting awkwardly around him.
Chapter 3
After a quick meal, River returned to her bunkroom to prepare for her excursion into the city. She found Pirate curled up on the bed, snoring. The coon lifted his head and yawned lazily as she stepped into the room.
“You’re a lot of help,” she said. He closed his eyes and burrowed back into the blankets.
River retrieved the keys to the armory and then checked her spring-powered revolver to be sure the spring was wound. It was. That meant she would have at least fifty accurate shots before it began to lose power. She gently slid the door shut as she left, leaving a crack wide enough for Pirate to pull it open if he wanted to leave.
River proceeded to the armory, where she collected three blunderbusses with extra ammo balls and powder charges. She wanted her group well-armed. With darkness closing in and the streets of Stormwatch seemingly abandoned, River couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable feeling that had begun gnawing at the pit of her stomach for the last hour. Something about the town just didn’t seem right. The knight, the old woman, the empty streets… all of these things were creepy enough, but compounded with the cryptic statements about dragons, River had a sense of growing unease that she just couldn’t shake.
She returned to the depot just as her volunteers were finishing their meal. River had an armload of weapons to distribute among them.
“I want to be extra cautious,” she said, placing the blunderbusses on the table. “We don’t have any idea what we’re going to find out there, and I don’t want a repeat of the Forgotten City.”
Vann grimaced. “I’ll second that,” he said, and then added, “I’ll take one of those, if you don’t mind.”
River handed him a blunderbuss. She turned her gaze on Kale. The muscular warrior’s presence in the group came as no surprise to anyone. His simmering romance with River had been an ongoing drama amongst the crew for months. Many had placed bets on whether the couple would eventually get together. According to Kale, this was all but a certainty, but in River’s mind it wasn’t even an option. She had grown up with Kale. She loved him dearly, but when she looked at him, it was impossible to see him as anything but a hyperactive little boy.
Kale accepted the weapon with a wink and a cocky smile, which River ignored. She did notice that he was now dressed in proper attire, including his good boots and a leather coat.
“And you two?” she said, glancing at the young Tal’mar warriors who had volunteered to join them. Kynan was dark-haired and brooding, and his female companion Tasha had violet-colored hair and at least half a dozen ear-piercings filled with gold hoops.
“We’re fine with our bows,” Kynan said. Tasha nodded her agreement.
River wasn’t surprised. The wood-folk were untrusting of technology and metallurgy, but highly skilled at archery. The Tal’mar had once been human, until an incident with starfall had permanently altered their genetic structures. They tended to be smaller and thinner of build than humans, with finer, more delicate features. They had large almond-shaped eyes that came in striking colors such as violet, gold, crimson red and vivid crystal blue, and they also had pointed ears. But the real differences between Tal’mar and humans ran deeper than their physical appearance.
The Tal’mar didn’t just look different from humans; they were something else entirely. The long-term effects of absorbing starfall into their bodies had not only modified their physical characteristics, but also left many of the Tal’mar with seemingly psychic powers: the ability to reach out with their minds, to communicate with trees and animals, even the power to heal. But all of these gifts came at a cost.
Iron had a tendency to absorb starfall. Once imbued with the rare element, such iron became highly prized for technological reasons. Because of its unusual density and inherent energetic properties, it made excellent springs to power airplanes and other inventions. But to the Tal’mar physiology, iron was destructive. Simply touching iron or steel could sap a Tal’mar’s energy. Over time, the effect could even be permanent.
So it had been with the small group of Tal’mar traveling on the Iron Horse. They had voluntarily accepted that their powers would wane and possibly even vanish over time. They had overcome their fear and distrust of technology, and they were willing to make this sacrifice. It was a small price to pay for the chance to save their race and their new homeland in Sanctuary.
With her expedition sufficiently armed, River led the group down the ramp and into the surrounding streets. Darkness had fallen, and the fog had begun to close in. The street lamps put out only scant halos of light, but the two brass lanterns they carried provided more than adequate illumination for the small group. As they moved deeper into the city, they paused here and there to peer into darkened windows and knock on heavy wooden doors. They stopped at a butcher’s shop, and further down the street, a cobbler’s. No answer ever came.
“There!” Kynan said at one point. They followed his gaze to a window on the upper story of a building up ahead.
“What do you see?” River said in a whisper. The Tal’mar were well-known for their night vision. As far as River could tell, the ability didn’t depend on starfall. Rather, it was due to a permanent change in their physiology, probably as a result of living nocturnally for so many generations. In all likelihood, starfall had contributed to this change, but night vision was now a racial ability.
“There was a light,” Kynan said in a hushed voice. “As soon as I looked, it went out.”
“They’re watching us,” Kale said grimly. “These houses are occupied, but nobody will come out and talk to us. We should break down a door.”
“No!” River said. “If they aren’t coming out, it means that they’re afraid of us. Breaking into their homes would only validate that fear.”
Kale rolled his eyes. “You worry too much. You sound like Socrates.”
“She’s right,” said Vann. “Worse yet, they might be waiting on the other side of that door with a blunderbuss of their own. If it was my home, I would be.”
The tall warrior glanced at a nearby doorway, and then down at the blunderbuss in his hands. “Good point,” he mumbled.
“Come on,” River said with a sigh. “Let’s knock on a few more doors.”
They turned the corner onto a broad street that cut a path straight
through the heart of the city. Through the drifting fog, they caught a glimpse of the outer walls of the palace. They headed in that direction, moving in a loose group. A few seconds later, they heard rustling noises echoing through the streets around them. River caught a flash of movement in the corner of her vision, and spun around with her lantern held high. Something invisible whooshed past the group.
“What the devils?” Vann said. They all turned, weapons drawn, eyes scanning the fog. River glanced at Kynan.
“Can you see anything?” she said under her breath.
“Not with those lanterns burning.”
River turned her lantern down and set it on the cobblestones. She nodded for Vann to do the same. Adjusted to a minimum burn, the lanterns cast tiny, barely visible halos in the mist. The Tal’mar scanned the area and then both shook their heads.
“Nothing,” Tasha said. “There’s nothing there.”
As if in response, a dark shadow flew through the center of the group. Kale let out a grunt and stumbled backwards. River reached out and caught him by the arm. As the warrior regained his balance, she noticed a long gash on his arm. Kale held up the wound, displaying a trickle of blood.
“It’s not a cut,” River said, stepping closer. “That looks like a scratch.”
“It’s a beast of some sort,” said Tasha.
“If it’s a beast, then why can’t I see it?” said Kynan. “The only animals I can’t see in the dark are cold-blooded.”
“Like snakes?” said River.
“Or a dragon?” said Vann.
They all stared at him. “Just saying… If it happened to be cold-blooded like a snake, you might not see it...”
“There’s no such thing as a dragon,” River said.
“Dragon or not, I’m about to scratch back,” Kale said angrily. “Show yourself!”
There was a rustling noise, and Kale instantly went sprawling face-down on the street. The blunderbuss slipped out of his grip and clattered across the pavestones. Tasha loosed an arrow. It vanished in the fog. A second later, they heard it strike the wall of a nearby building. River bent down to retrieve her lantern. Kale crawled to his feet and collected his firearm.
River turned the flame all the way up. She looked around at the others, who had to squint against its brightness. “If Tal’mar eyes can’t see this thing, maybe what we need is more light,” she said. She turned, glancing at the second lantern, which still rested on the cobblestones. “Where’s Vann?”
“He was here just a moment ago,” said Tasha. “He was right behind us.”
“There!” said Kale. Up the street, they caught a glimpse of human figure running through the mist.
River broke into a sprint, and the others went racing after her.
Chapter 4
Waves of mist boiled around her, choking off River’s view of anything more than a few feet away. The fog cast the light of her lantern back at her, further impeding her vision. The sound of her boot heels echoed between the stone walls of the buildings, and the fog seemed to press down on her like a great weight. She stopped, trying to catch her breath. Off to her left, she saw a tall steepled building, possibly some sort of temple. Long tendrils of ivy crawled up the walls, and the doors hung open as if inviting her inside. Kale caught up to her. He doubled over, panting.
“Look,” River said, pointing at the temple.
“You think Vann went in there?”
“Maybe. Where are the others?”
Kale turned his head left and right, scanning the swirling mist. He straightened up, frowning. For a moment, they stood listening to the sound of their own heavy breathing, their ears straining for the sound of their companions’ boots on the street, or the rustle of their clothing as they approached. They heard none of this.
“Kynan!” Kale shouted. “Tasha, are you there?”
“Keep quiet,” River said, glaring at him. “There’s something else out there.”
Kale pulled back the hammer on his blunderbuss. “Did you see it?”
“No, but I can feel it watching us.”
“You think it took the others?”
“I don’t know, but you just told it where we are. Come, lets get inside.”
Kale looked into the ominous darkness beyond the doors. “You sure that’s a good idea? It could be a trap.”
“You think it’s safer out here?” River said. Kale grunted.
They climbed the stairs together, River holding forth her lantern as they crossed the threshold and stepped into a large hall. Rows of wooden pews filled the room, and an altar rested on a dais at the far end. Unlit torches lined the walls. Kale took one from a shining brass sconce and lit it with a quick flick of his flint and steel. The fuel-soaked brand instantly flamed to life.
“Nobody’s here,” Kale said, stepping deeper into the room. He noted a dark doorway off to the left at the far end of the room.
“Then who left the doors open?” said River. She moved to the right side of the room, admiring the tapestries and paintings that lined the walls. Kale went around the other side. The couple circled the room until they met at the far end, facing the altar. It was exquisitely carved ebony or some other dark hardwood, and inlaid with pearls, gemstones, silver and gold.
“If we don’t find anybody in this town, I’m coming back for this,” Kale said, nodding at the gems.
“Don’t get your hopes up. This place is not abandoned.”
“How do you know?”
She held the lantern close to the altar, dragging her index finger along the top. “No dust,” she said, displaying her clean finger.
“You’re right. There’s no rust on the metal, even the brass and copper are polished to a shine.” He looked at her. “What do you suppose it means?”
“I don’t know, but whoever lives here is playing games with us. If we don’t find Vann and the others soon, I’m going to run out of patience.”
“Vann must have come in here,” Kale said.
“Then where did he go?”
“The other rooms, maybe?”
River approached the doorway and cautiously stepped into the next room. She found herself standing in a large kitchen. Kale came in behind her. He promptly tripped, and knocked over a shelf of pots and pans as he fell. There was an ear-shattering clatter and Kale landed face-down on tope of his blunderbuss, with the torch lying on the floor a few feet away.
“Careful, fool!” River hissed. To her surprise, Kale didn’t move. She rushed to his side and bent down, setting the lantern next to him. Kale was breathing, but his eyes were closed.
“Kale?” she said, shaking his shoulder. “Kale, wake up!”
The warrior didn’t respond. She reached under his massive chest, carefully extricating the blunderbuss so as to prevent a dangerous misfire. She set it on the table next to him. Kale was dead weight; heavy enough that River could barely move him. She managed to get him rolled halfway over, and then felt his throat for a pulse. The warrior’s heartbeat was strong, though perhaps somewhat elevated.
“Wake up,” River whispered, gently slapping his cheek.
She hesitated as she felt the hard flesh of Kale’s scar under fingers. The skin on his cheek was dark red, almost purple in the light of her lantern. She felt a few stray whiskers cutting into her skin and frowned as she realized how hard it must have been for Kale to shave that part of his face without cutting himself. She wondered why she had never considered it before. All her life, Kale had had that scar, and River had hardly ever even noticed it. Now, it seemed strange, vivid. What must it have been like for Kale, living with that mark on his face for his entire life?
Kale let out a loud snore, shaking her out of her thoughts. River rolled her eyes. She slapped him on the cheek again, this time harder. “Kale! Wake up.”
It didn’t do any good. Somehow, the lumbering fool had knocked himself out cold. River glanced around the room, looking for a bucket of cold water to throw on him. As she turned, her gaze fell on a shadow at the end of the r
oom. The moment she saw it, the figure turned and ran. River hesitated for a moment, reluctant to leave Kale behind. Then she took off with her lantern in one hand and a blunderbuss in the other.
River dashed through the kitchen, dodging around carts and tables, until she came to an open doorway. It was a stairwell, she realized. Probably a cellar. She glanced back in Kale’s direction and heard him snoring like a steamsaw. She turned back to the darkened stairway and a rush of cold air washed over her skin. Goose bumps rose on her arms.
River leaned the blunderbuss against the wall and drew her revolver. She squeezed the grip, her index finger resting on the trigger as she made a slow, cautious descent into the cellar. The damp, musty scent of earth filled her nostrils. The darkness seemed to press down, closing in from behind as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
River found herself in a room full of barrels and crates. She set the lantern on one of the crates and stepped forward, slipping between the obstacles as she approached the center of the room. Dripping water echoed around her. The shadows danced on the walls. Somewhere, near the back corner, she heard a shuffling noise.
“Show yourself,” River commanded. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
Low, sinister laughter rumbled out of the darkness. The sound of whirring gears, the clockwork click-click-click of a sophisticated piece of machinery. The sound resonated through the narrow space. A shiver of recognition crept down her spine. There was something familiar about that voice…
“Who is it?” River said.
“Don’t you remember me?”
She saw movement. A shadowy figure emerged from behind the crates. River saw a glint of metal as the creature stepped forward into the glimmering light of her lantern. River’s eyes widened as she recognized the horrifying half-man, half-machine abomination from her nightmares.
The Dragon's Breath (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 3) Page 3
