The Dragon's Breath (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 3)

by Jamie Sedgwick

  “Time’s up, little mushroom.”

  Micah winced as Thane squeezed the trigger. It made a clicking sound, but no flames appeared. Thane frowned. He smacked the handle with the palm of his hand, and reached around his back to adjust the valve. Thane’s fingers closed on a big, blue hand.

  “That’s enough,” Socrates said in a voice like thunder. He jerked the fuel tank off Thane’s shoulder. The bard spun around, and Socrates yanked the weapon out of his hands. Smoke and steam curled up from the ape’s fur, and his eyebrows looked somewhat singed, but he didn’t seem too damaged. Micah realized Socrates must have doused himself in water before coming through the door.

  “Butter!” Thane shrieked in horror. “I should have used butter!”

  “You’re right,” Socrates snarled. “Always sauté mushrooms in butter. This cooking lesson is over.” He tossed the flamethrower onto one of the workbenches and caught the bard by the collar. Micah hurried after them as Socrates dragged the bard out of the room. The halfling tried to ignore the curtain of snakes hanging over the doorway as he passed into the next boxcar, where one giant snake seemed to be curling around the walls, creating some sort of tunnel.

  “What about River?” Micah said. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s in the dining car,” Socrates called over his shoulder. “Clucking, and flapping her arms. She’ll be fine as soon as she remembers she’s not a rooster.”

  Chapter 10

  Over the next hour, the train’s ventilation system purged the contaminated air and replaced it with fresh, breathable air. Things gradually returned to normal. The hallucinations came to an end, and the crewmembers began unlocking their doors and crawling out of their hiding places. There were a few minor injuries, and the train itself had suffered some damage (thanks in no small part to Vann and his cleavers), but thankfully no one had been seriously hurt.

  Unfortunately, once they had gathered in the dining car to assess the damages, they discovered that several people remained unaccounted for. Kynan and Tasha were still missing, as were Kale, Shayla, and a handful of others who had wandered off during the night. River volunteered to organize a search party. Socrates, who stood in the middle of the room looking over his bruised and battered crew, considered her offer. He inhaled deeply, his great simian chest expanding like a leathery balloon, the ever-present clicking sound of the gears in his body accelerating slightly.

  “Not yet,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “The sun isn’t up yet, and I don’t want anyone leaving the train until we know it’s safe. Our first priority is to be sure that every car is securely sealed, so this doesn’t happen again tonight.”

  “Do what you want; I’m going after Shayla,” said Thane. The bard was seated in one of the booths, leaning back with a cold pint of ale pressed up to his forehead. Headaches, it seemed, were a common aftereffect of the hallucinations.

  “You won’t get far,” River said.

  Thane glared at her. “You can’t stop me.”

  “Maybe not, but you’ll be hallucinating again before you get to the end of the street. You’re lucky to be alive as it is.”

  The bard considered that. “It doesn’t matter. Shayla would have come back by now. She is in trouble, and I have to find her. It’s my… duty.”

  “Perhaps,” said Socrates. “But consider the situation: you most likely won’t save her by going after her alone. In fact, you could very well end up killed along with her.”

  “But I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

  “I’m not asking that,” said Socrates. “River will be organizing a search party. It would be wise on your part to wait for her company. In the meanwhile, we have other preparations to make. Unless you’d rather spend another night like the last one?”

  Thane pursed his lips, but didn’t argue.

  “I understand that you are concerned for her safety,” Socrates added. “We’re all concerned, but we can’t help the others unless we see to our own situation first.”

  “And then what?” said Vann, who had been behind the bar distributing cold drinks and chunks of ice that he had chipped out of the cooler in the kitchen. “I say we get the rest of our crew and get out of here. I, for one, don’t feel like revisiting what happened last night.”

  “He’s right,” someone else blurted out. “We should just leave!”

  “We would be lucky to make it fifty miles on the fuel we have left,” said Socrates. “And our situation would be even worse. We have no choice but to negotiate for more fuel. While we are here, I also intend to locate the source of the starfall feeding this fog. It would be wrong of us to leave these people at the mercy of the dragon’s breath. What we experienced for a few hours is what they have been living with for decades, or even centuries.”

  Micah, who was sitting up on the bar, spoke up: “If you find the starfall, can we use it for fuel?”

  “Most likely. Depending on the purity of the source, I may have to filter and distill it, but I suspect there is a large reservoir somewhere nearby.”

  “What are you saying?” said Vann. “That this is the end of our mission?”

  “It may be,” said Socrates. “It depends on how much fuel we find, and how difficult it is to attain.”

  “The sooner we get started, the sooner we’ll know,” River said. “I’ll check the ventilation systems at the rear of the train and work forward.”

  “Excellent,” said Socrates. “I’ll see to the locomotive, and meet you somewhere in the middle. Everyone else, check your quarters and workstations. When we’re finished, we will go find the rest of the crew.”

  River made the trek to the far end of the train and went to work. She began inspecting the oxygen and ventilation lines of each railcar, one at a time. As she worked, Pirate appeared and began following her around, begging for snacks. Apparently, his binge drinking had left him even more hungry than usual. Or more obnoxious, at any rate. River shooed him off. Later, when she got to the dining car, she found him harassing Vann. Pirate was sitting up on the bar next to an empty nut jar.

  “You haven’t been feeding him those, have you?” she said.

  “Of course not,” Vann said. “You’ve told me a hundred times, don’t feed him snacks, so why would I do that?”

  River stared at him. Vann cleared his throat.

  “Well, maybe one or two…” the chef added.

  “How many times do I have to explain that too many snacks aren’t good for him? Especially considering how much weight he’s gained already.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vann said. “I just can’t help it when he looks up at me with those big eyes. He’s a natural-born beggar, that one.”

  “I know,” she grumbled. “Don’t give him any more.”

  River moved on to the next car. She had hoped to meet Socrates by then, but apparently some other task had distracted his attention. River finished the job alone. By then, the sun had risen and the crew was getting restless. Just as she was finishing, Thane came looking for her, wanting to know if it was time to leave.

  “I’m going to find Socrates,” she said, handing him the keys to the armory. “Gather a small group -five or six- and be ready to go.”

  Thane eagerly hurried back down the train. River turned her attention to locating their commander. After a quick search, she found Socrates standing on the platform behind the locomotive. He was watching something through his spyglass. When he noticed her, he motioned for her to join him. It was a chilly morning, and River’s breath came out in gusts of steam as she stepped out of the passenger car.

  “It’s safe to breathe?” River said, rubbing her arms to warm them.

  “I believe so. The fog lifted almost an hour ago,. I’ve been monitoring the hygrometer, and if my theory is correct, the crew should be safe until nightfall.”

  “What are you looking at?” River said, nodding at the spyglass in his hand.

  “See for yourself. Look to the southeast, over those hills.”

  River put the s
cope to her eye. She slid her view across the horizon until she saw a black speck floating over the mountains. She zeroed in, twisting the scope to bring the object into focus.

  “Is that an airship?”

  “It appears to be heading this way. It’s moving quite slowly. If my calculations are correct, it should reach the area around noon.”

  “Is it him?” she said, slamming the spyglass shut.

  “I won’t know until the light is better, and the ship is closer,” Socrates said.

  “I’m going to load my gun,” River said, grinding her teeth. She heard a voice in the distance, and followed the sound to a building not far from the depot. Her eyes widened as she saw a door open. Not far away, someone opened a window on the second story of another building.

  “It’s the townsfolk,” she said in disbelief. “They’re coming out!”

  “I expected they would,” said Socrates. “They weren’t hiding from us last night; they were hiding from the fog.”

  “You mean the dragon’s breath,” River said. Socrates grinned.

  It wasn’t long before the citizens of Stormwatch began to approach the train. They kept their distance at first, watching the Horse skeptically, as if they weren’t sure it was real. Socrates did not help matters when he leapt from the locomotive onto the depot’s platform and introduced himself. Half the people in the crowd ran screaming in the opposite direction. River stepped in front of him.

  “You needn’t fear us,” she shouted. “We’re real, and we are human… mostly.”

  “Where did you come from?” said a voice in the crowd. It was the elderly woman they had seen the day before. River was about to answer when she heard the blare of horns in the distance, and turned her head to see a procession of soldiers leading a horse-drawn carriage through town.

  The soldiers wore leather armor over bright red tunics, and carried spears and heater shields. As the procession approached, the crowd parted to make way. The carriage’s axles squeaked and the wheels clattered across the cobblestones as it pulled to a halt in front of the depot. The brakes made a horrible grating sound as it came to a stop. The soldiers surrounded the carriage, standing at attention as the driver stood up and shouted:

  “All hail Lady Morgane!”

  One of the soldiers opened the carriage door, and an attractive woman in her late twenties appeared. Lady Morgane was tall and thin, with long dark hair, pale skin, and mesmerizing gray eyes. She wore an elegant dress of shimmering blue silk with a belt of fine silver chain. The soldier offered a hand as Morgane climbed down the steps, and then followed behind her as she climbed the ramp up to the platform.

  “Greetings, travelers,” she said, bowing slightly. “I am Morgane, daughter of Lord Fenn of Stormwatch and niece to King Dane of the wall. I welcome you.”

  “We are honored,” Socrates said, smiling.

  “My father, Lord Fenn, requests your presence at the palace. Please do me the honor of accompanying me in my carriage.”

  They heard the door slide open behind them, and turned to find Thane standing there with his group of volunteers. “We’re ready,” he said.

  Socrates glanced at River before turning his attention back to Lady Morgane. “Your highness,” he said with a slight bow. “Several of my crewmembers have gone missing. I would like to send a group of scouts out to locate them.”

  “Of course,” Morgane said. “I must warn you to expect the worst. This is a dangerous place for strangers.”

  “Yes, the dragon’s breath,” Socrates said. “We are aware.”

  “Not just that,” Morgane said. “This land is overrun with dragons and other dangerous creatures. I recommend you stay close to the city. There are dangers in the mountains and plains that you couldn’t imagine.”

  “We thank you,” Socrates said. He turned to River and the others. “Thane, I would like you to lead the mission. River, please come with me.”

  River started to protest, but Socrates silenced her with a look. The couple followed Morgane down the ramp and Socrates stood back as Morgane and River climbed inside the carriage. After the women had settled inside, he stepped onto the ladder. The carriage tilted under his weight and he could barely squeeze through the narrow door. It rocked as the creaking springs absorbed his weight. He settled onto the bench across from them and Morgane signaled to the driver, rapping on the wall with her knuckles. The carriage pulled away from the depot.

  “I hope you will forgive my father’s absence,” she said. “His health has been failing him for some time. At any rate, this will allow you an opportunity to acquaint yourselves with our city.”

  “Indeed,” said Socrates. “I have many questions.”

  “I imagine so,” Morgane said. “Your arrival last night was rather late. I hope you didn’t suffer any difficulties.”

  “Nothing we couldn’t manage,” Socrates said, glancing at River. “My only concern is with our missing crewmembers.”

  “You have my sympathies. Your friends may have fallen victim to the dragons.”

  “Do you truly believe that the mist comes from a dragon?” Socrates said.

  “I’m sure this sounds strange to you -perhaps even silly- but my people have dealt with this plague for centuries. Every night, before he hunts, the great dragon breathes out a mist that covers the land. It confuses and frightens his victims, so they don’t have the strength to defend themselves. Long ago, we learned to take shelter from the mist by digging tunnels deep in the ground.”

  “You live underground?” said River. Morgane glanced at her with a thin smile.

  “Only at night. We are human, after all. We must hunt, farm, and go about the business of our daily lives. But when the dragon’s breath comes, we must take shelter. It is in this manner that we have survived.”

  “Fascinating,” said Socrates. “Tell me, are your wells -your water sources- underground as well?”

  “No, we cover our wells at night. The dragon’s breath has a corrupting effect on water.”

  River watched Socrates as he probed Morgane for information. She wondered if he planned to reveal more about starfall. It seemed likely, but perhaps not yet. The ape was too cautious to just go blurting things out, and it was doubtful whether Morgane would even believe him. After all, she was convinced that the hallucinogenic mist came from a dragon.

  “Forgive my asking,” Socrates said at one point, “but many people are somewhat put off by my appearance. You however, hardly seem to notice.”

  “You are a remarkable creature,” Morgane said with a wry smile. “But hardly the first complex machine I have ever seen. That is what you are, is it not?”

  “Indeed.”

  “So I thought. You may be surprised to find that despite our simple ways, we are well acquainted with technology.”

  “Oh?” said River skeptically. “No offense, but your town doesn’t seem very… technical.”

  “You are right about that,” said Morgane. “The most sophisticated invention you’ll see in Stormwatch is a gas lamp, or this horse-drawn carriage. I was speaking of Dragonwall.”

  “The castle on the mountain?” said River.

  Morgane didn’t answer, but simply smiled. The carriage pulled through the gates of the palace and rolled across the courtyard to stop near the front stairs. Socrates allowed the women to climb out ahead of him, before squeezing his large frame through the door.

  The palace was similar to a villa with balconies looking out over the courtyard, and tall walls surrounding the entire estate. An orchard filled the eastern end of the courtyard, and a small vineyard grew to the west. Both were covered in canopies of green and brown netting. When River commented on this, Morgane matter of factly told her that it was to protect them from the dragons.

  “We have to disguise our crops in this manner,” she said. “Otherwise, the dragons will spot them when they fly overhead and burn everything.”

  River frowned. “Has this happened before?”

  “Of course. Many times. How else
would our ancestors have known to protect our crops in this way? You will also notice that our buildings are made of stone, and the tiles on the rooftops are of clay. We must build homes that resist the dragons’ attacks, at least long enough to allow our people to escape. Come this way, please.”

  River couldn’t help wondering how much of Morgane’s story could be attributed to the hallucinogenic effects of the fog. Obviously, that was the source of the peasants’ belief in dragons, but it did not explain the burning of the crops. Perhaps these fires had been set by lightning. Morgane’s ignorant ancestors may have attributed the fires to dragons, thereby giving birth to the entire legend. River would have to discuss it with Socrates later.

  Cool, earthy air washed over them as they entered the palace. A wide banquet room stretched out before them with large windows and doors opening out onto a paved terrace. Morgane led them down a hallway and up a wide stairwell, where they climbed past the second floor to the upper story of the palace. Here, they turned down a long carpeted, torch-lit hallway until they came to a set of tall polished hardwood doors decorated with brass inlays in the shape of an oak tree and a sky full of stars. Morgane knocked. When no answer came, she pushed the door open and motioned for the others to follow her in.

  They stepped into a large, opulently decorated room.The smell of flowers, cedar, and sandalwood washed over them. Paintings and tapestries hung from the walls and statues carved in marble, gold, and bronze decorated the place. The furnishings were luxurious; the chair frames made of carved hardwoods, the upholstery of fine, brightly colored fabrics. In the center of the room rested a large marble table spread with fruit bowls, breads, and cheeses. A bronze censer shaped like a temple rested in the center. Perfumed incense clouds wafted up from the spire to hover fog-like near the ceiling. On a table nearby rested a cage of chirping songbirds. A set of doors on the outside wall led out to a balcony.

  “This way,” Morgane said, leading them in that direction.