They stepped out onto the balcony, which was almost as luxurious as the room. It had been decorated with ferns, flowers, and fruit trees in large stone planters, and was furnished with wrought-iron and brass chairs, tables, and a fainting couch. They had a clear view of the plains beyond the wall, and the section of city that lay to the north.
Loud snoring sounds emanated from a corner of the balcony, where wisps of steam curled up from a large cedar bath. A man’s head, balding and slick with sweat, rested on the edge of the bath facing the other direction, the backs of his arms reclined to either side. The snoring continued as they approached him. They circled round the front of the tub, crowding in next to the balcony railing to face the baron. Even with most of his body hidden underwater, it was clear that he was a rather large man. From that angle, he looked to River like a fat boar lying spread-eagle in a mud puddle.
The baron’s skin was pale and speckled with liver spots. Patches of hair grew in erratic tufts across his shoulders and chest, but the hair on his head was thin and streaked with gray. Lord Fenn’s head was tilted back, with his jaw hanging open, a thin mustache lining the bulging flesh between his lips and his ugly, wide, upturned nose that quivered and shook with every breath. As the baron snored, his sagging jowls undulated like flaps of sailcloth in a light breeze.
Morgane cleared her throat, and when that didn’t suffice to wake him, she bent down, slapping him lightly on the shoulder, and said, “Father?”
The baron continued to snore. Morgane rolled her eyes. She slapped him harder, the palm of her hand making smacking noises against the moist jiggling flesh. A little louder she said, “Lord Fenn, you have visitors!”
The snoring stopped. The baron’s eyelids fluttered open. He looked up at them in glassy-eyed confusion. River couldn’t be sure whether Lord Fenn’s eyes were unnaturally small, or if they appeared so because his head was so unnaturally large. He licked his lips and made dry smacking sounds. Morgane filled a glass from a water pitcher on the table next to him, and handed it to the baron. Lord Fenn lifted it to his lips and drank deeply, not pausing until the glass was empty. He lowered it, belched, and wiped the excess moisture from his moustache across the back of his arm. He handed Morgane the glass and leaned forward, looking them up and down. His gaze danced back and forth between Socrates and River, and a frown creased his features.
“Who are you?” he said. The act of speaking broke something loose in his throat, and he cleared it loudly.
“These are our guests, father, ” said Morgane. “You asked them to come here.”
“Of course they are!” he said. “Who else would they be?” He stared at Socrates. “And what manner of creature are you?”
“Less creature than machine,” Socrates said. “Though I assure you, I am completely autonomous. In fact, I now have legal papers to prove that very fact.”
River chuckled at the joke, but Morgane and Lord Fenn simply stared back at them. Socrates cleared his throat. “My apologies,” he said. “My name is Socrates, and I am the commander of the Iron Horse. My crew and I are on a mission to find a rare element known as starfall-”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you weren’t real,” the baron said, interrupting him.
“You wouldn’t be the first,” the ape replied.
“Of course, you must be. The dragon’s breath faded hours ago.”
“I assure you, Lord Fenn, I’m as real as you are.”
Fenn leaned back. “It’s that dragon,” he said. “Bespelling us all, charming us with his magic, killing our horses, our cattle… even our people, when he can. I keep sending messages to my brother, but he doesn’t help. He doesn’t care what happens to the rest of us. He’s locked up safe and secure in that mountain, not a care in the world.”
“What about Sir Elberone?” said River. “The knight we saw yesterday said he was going to kill the dragon.”
The baron rolled his eyes and snorted.
“The king sends men down from time to time,” Morgane explained. “They say they’re going out to kill the dragon, but they never return.”
“Of course they don’t!” said Fenn. “If I gave you a horse and a suit of armor, where would you go? Looking for dragons? Of course not! You’d get as far away from here as you could, and never look back.”
“Tell me about the dragon’s breath,” said Socrates. “Last night, the fog gave my crew hallucinations.”
“The dragon’s breath has ever been our curse,” said Morgane. “If not for that, the people would have long ago found the courage to hunt down the dragon and put an end to him.”
The baron laughed. “You have more faith in our people than I do, my daughter.”
“You judge too harshly, father. They have lived their entire lives in fear and despair. Our people have nothing to live for!”
“What if I said I might be able to help you?” said Socrates.
A sneer turned up the baron’s lips. “I would say we have no money, and whatever you’re selling, we can’t afford it and don’t want it.”
“I’m not selling anything. Quite the contrary, if I can find the source of the dragon’s breath-”
“The source is the dragon!” the baron interrupted, slamming his frail fist down on the rim of the bath. “Haven’t you been listening?”
“Yes, but if I can find the dragon, I might… I may be able to stop the dragon’s breath.”
The baron threw back his head and roared with laughter, the rolls of fat on his chest and arms shaking. It went on for some time. When he finally caught his breath, he leaned forward and said, “Socrates, if you can find the dragon and stop his breath, I will give you anything you want.”
“Father!” Morgane blurted out.
“Calm yourself,” the baron said dismissively. “The dragon has been the bane of our existence for centuries. This creature can’t stop him. No one can stop that dragon.”
“I would like to speak to your king-” Socrates started.
“Absolutely not! King Dane is as wicked as he is dangerous, and I will not permit it. You are not to go anywhere near Dragonwall! I forbid it!”
“My father is upset,” Morgane said. “You should leave now.”
“But if I just-”
“No!” Morgane said, cutting Socrates off. “You may visit our town freely, but do not go up to Dragonwall. And don’t come back here unless you are summoned.”
Morgane accompanied them back downstairs, but did not offer her guests a carriage ride back to the train. Alone in the courtyard a few minutes later, Socrates and River began the long walk back through town.
“That didn’t go very well,” River grumbled.
“You think not?” said Socrates.
“We just got kicked out!”
“Yes, but before that, the baron did make a promise.”
River stopped and stared at him. “About giving you anything you want? You mean to hold him to it?”
Socrates shrugged. “If he’s a man of honor, he will keep his word.”
“And what do you want from him?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Socrates. “At the very least, I mean to find the source of the starfall and take it, if I can.”
“And you’re going to slay the dragon?” River said with a sly grin. “That should be interesting, considering it doesn’t exist.”
Socrates snorted. “The baron doesn’t know that. Honestly, although I know it’s a simple delusion, part of me wants to believe it’s real. We’ve seen so many strange creatures already… one could hardly imagine a more fascinating specimen than a real live dragon.”
River stared at him. “Are you sure the fog didn’t have any effect on you?”
“Tsk,” said the ape. “A studious inquiry is the first sign of a disciplined mind.”
“Uh-huh. Have fun with that. I just want to find the starfall and get back on the rails.”
Outside the palace, they passed a temple with a tall steeple. River stopped in the street and stared at it.
“Is something wrong?” Socrates said.
“This building looks… familiar.”
“That’s where I found you last night.”
River frowned, searching her memory. Half-remembered images and senseless visions collided in her mind. She shook her head, unable to make any sense of them. The couple continued on their way, paying little attention to the townsfolk who stopped to stare at them as they passed. Word had already spread about the Iron Horse and its strange crew, but even though people knew Socrates wasn’t a hallucination, many of them still couldn’t quite believe their eyes when they saw him. No one however, had the courage to approach him.
Along the way, they crossed paths with Thane and his group.
“Any luck?” River said.
“We found Kynan and Tasha, and I sent them back to the train. No sign of the others yet.”
River noted his concerned look, and couldn’t help the uneasy feeling she had about Kale. She knew he could take care of himself, but like Thane, she still couldn’t help worrying.
“Perhaps they have already returned,” Socrates said. “Why don’t you go back to the train with us?”
Since they had already searched the entire city, Thane agreed. A short while later, they arrived back at the Iron Horse. While the others went back into the train, Socrates climbed up onto the locomotive. River followed him. Standing on the platform behind the cab, she looked at the sky to the southeast and noticed that the airship they had seen earlier was getting close. She pointed it out to Socrates. He retrieved his spyglass and took a long look at it.
“It’s definitely Burk,” he said. “By now, he’s probably seen the Iron Horse.”
“Do you think he means to attack us?”
Before Socrates could answer, a woman’s voice behind them said:
“Third circle.”
They turned to see the stooped old woman again. She was standing on the platform just a few feet away. She saw their baffled looks and nodded at the airship.
“That thing has passed over the city every day. We thought it was a dragon, at first, but it just flew right by. It never stops. It just keeps coming and going, round and round.”
“That airship has been circling Stormwatch for three days?” River said.
The woman nodded and made a grunting sound in the back of her throat. River turned to Socrates.
“Do you think Burk has been surveying the area, looking for the starfall?”
“A reasonable assumption,” Socrates said.
“What should we do?”
“Unlock the armory and alert the crew. We’re going to bring it down.”
Chapter 11
Socrates used the communication pipes to put the crew on high alert. All personnel were ordered to defend the train. He armed the crew with muskets and sabers, and turned over the train’s only long-range rifle to River. He sent out the order that those with firearms should ready themselves on the top of the train, while the others waited below to attack the airship after it landed.
“If Burk starts firing his cannons, we’ll be sitting ducks,” River said.
“Then make sure he doesn’t,” Socrates said, nodding at the long-barreled rifle in her hands.
River slung the rifle over her shoulder and climbed the ladder up to the top of the locomotive. She walked across the smooth curving surface of the boiler tank, towards the front of the train. When she had a clear view of the approaching airship, she loaded the rifle and then rested the long iron barrel across the rim of one of the smokestacks. River tilted her head, gazing down the sights.
Socrates was too heavy to join River on the boiler, but he climbed up onto the walkway next to her and raised his spyglass.
“There is a moderate tailwind,” he said. “Approximately sixteen knots. The ship is moving faster than it was this morning.”
“Where’s Burk?” River said, sliding her aim back and forth across the ship’s main deck.
“I don’t see him yet. I can’t see anyone.”
“Kynan and Tasha are back,” said Micah as he climbed up behind them. “They look like they spent the night sleeping in a ditch. A few others just showed up, too.”
“What about Kale?” River said.
Micah shook his head. River sighed.
“Knowing Kale, he probably ran off to some tavern. It would be just like him to leave us worrying, while he’s out bedding some wench.”
Micah frowned. “Wench? Isn’t he with Shayla?”
“That’s who I was talking about,” River smirked.
“No matter,” said Socrates. “We have other concerns right now. Micah, tell the others that if they see Burk, they can shoot to kill, but don’t bring the airship down over the city. I don’t want to risk any innocent lives.” Micah hurried to relay the orders.
Within minutes, the airship had moved in over the southern end of the city. It was coming at an angle from the southeast, making a wide arc that would take it over Stormwatch and then back towards the plains to the west. It was flying incredibly low. Low enough that a Tal’mar warrior with a good bow might have been able to hit it from the rooftops.
“Still no signs of life,” Socrates said. “Something is wrong.”
“Could be a trick,” said River. She twisted the rifle, moving her line of sight along the upper deck. As the ship turned, River saw a man bound to the main mast with heavy rope. Whether he was living or dead, she couldn’t tell.
“Take a shot,” Socrates said.
River frowned.
“At what? There’s no one there.”
“Shoot the balloon.”
At close range, the giant balloon made an easy target. River squeezed the trigger. A cavernous hole appeared near the top, and they heard the distant whoosh! of rushing air. The airship immediately began to lose altitude. It slid over the rooftops at the western edge of town and circled in towards the fields to the west.
“She’s coming down!” Socrates shouted. “Move out!”
He leapt from the top of the Locomotive, dropping a full twenty feet to the earth below. There was a loud thump as he landed, and a cloud of dust shot up in the air. Socrates took off at a run, leaving the others scrambling down the ladders to keep up.
The airship’s keel struck the smooth stone ground with a violent grating noise a hundred yards outside of town. The vessel bounced, rebounding with a jolt. It jumped another fifty yards before coming down again, this time at the edge of a wide, barren field. Rocks and soil sprayed into the air. The hull of the ship groaned and careened to the side as it landed. The airship’s balloon had enough lift to drag the vessel several hundred yards. The grating, grinding sound of wood smashing against rocks filled the air. The crew gave chase, dodging through the trail of debris in its wake.
River leapt over a broken cargo box and almost landed on a man’s corpse. She twisted in midair, kicking her feet out to the side, and managed to avoid stepping on him. Unfortunately, she came down on a piece of wreckage that instantly shot out from underneath her. River fell, sprawling out across the dead body. An involuntary scream erupted out of her chest as she found herself face to face with the rotting corpse. His throat had been slit, his eyes had shriveled up in their sockets, and his skin was stretched tight like dried leather. He had been dead for some time; at least a few days. The impact of her landing pressed down on the corpse, and the head tilted back in such a way that the mouth fell open. Maggots began swarming out, spilling down over his cheeks.
River pushed to her feet and jumped back, fighting the urge to vomit. She turned in a slow circle. Around her, the crew continued to give chase, dodging obstacles that were falling out of the hull of the airship. Some of those obstacles, she realized, were more corpses. It appeared as if the entire crew had been murdered.
At last, the weight of the hull overcame the balloon’s lift, and the entire airship came to a rest on its side. The deflated balloon twisted, flapping in the wind as it began to collapse in upon itself. The crew caught up to the
wreck, and two more bodies slid off the main deck and flopped to the ground in front of them. They circled around the crash site with their weapons drawn and ready.
River retrieved the fallen rifle and caught up to the others a moment later. She approached one of the bodies lying next to the hull and cautiously kicked it over with her boot. The corpse was male: a tall, wiry human warrior with white hair and a long dagger strapped to his thigh. His face was black and blue with bruising. The cause of his demise was immediately evident: the handle of a dagger was sticking out of his chest.
“They’re all dead,” Socrates said, stooping down to examine another body. “This one was shot by a scattergun.”
“What about Burk?” said River. “Has anyone seen Burk’s body?”
No one had, so they began searching the wreckage around the ship, examining the other corpses. When this failed to produce their enemy, River climbed up onto the lower section of the hull to get a closer look at the man lashed to the mast. It also was not Burk.
“Maybe he left the ship before it came here,” Micah offered. He had been hovering at the edge of the crash area, drawing the scene on his sketchpad. River shook her head.
“I don’t believe that. He wouldn’t simply abandon this airship. Not after all the trouble he went through to steal it. Certainly not before getting his hands on that starfall.”
“Then what happened here?” said Micah. “Where did he go?”
“My best guess is that Burk did this,” she said with a sweeping gesture. “He killed his own crew.”
“For what possible reason?” said Thane, standing beside her. “There’s no logic in that.”
“The dragon’s breath,” said Socrates, staring down at the bodies. “We’ve all seen the effect it can have on humans. Imagine what it must have been like up there in the sky, where the effect never fades.”
“They must have gone mad from hallucinations,” Micah said.
They heard a scream overhead, and looked up to see the snarling face of a madman leering down at them from the upper section of the hull. It was Burk. Caked dirt and blood covered the blacksmith’s entire body. Blood oozed from cuts and wounds, not the least of which appeared to be a bullet hole in his left shoulder. He was brandishing a cutlass, and snarling and slavering like a mad dog.
The Dragon's Breath (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 3) Page 9
