Night of Fire: The Ether Chronicles

by Nico Rosso

  And there was still a Whisperer with an ether pack trying to catch her. If she did lose control and fall to the ground the impact might end her, or the guards below would. Tom continued to speed away with the other Whisperer. All she could do was pull the reins, kick the levers and hope to slow things down enough to pull her pistol and shoot back at all the men trying to kill her.

  TOM HAD BEEN in enough fights to know how to punch a man. But to do so while dangling thirty feet over the ground was another matter altogether. Both he and the Whisperer had lost their grips on their pistols, and they dangled on their lanyards. The other man was strong, his fingers digging into Tom’s shoulder as he tried to shove him off.

  “Best give up your fight now, before you get hurt.” Tom jabbed his elbow into the man’s ribs, but the mask obscured any expression of pain.

  Every passing second burned Tom. He could only steal glances, but knew Rosa was alone on the charger, whirling through the air as she struggled to control it. Either she’d crash or make an easy target. He had to get to her. Now.

  But the Whisperer had no intentions of making this easy. He brought his knee hard into Tom’s side, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Tom grabbed the control lever for the ether pack and twisted it, sending them into a tight spin. As the Whisperer struggled for control, Tom was able to get a hand free and balled it into a fist. It was a quick uppercut, without a lot of room to develop, but it felt good planting it on the man’s jaw.

  The mask flew off while the guard was in mid-whisper. Tom’s spine froze. The man wasn’t speaking English. His words came out in a stream of German. It all made sense. The advanced weapons, the military technology.

  “You’re a goddamn Hapsburg.”

  The man’s eyes went wide, shocked to be found out.

  Tom cocked his fist and punched the man in the face. But the Hapsburg soldier maintained his grip on Tom’s shoulder. And somewhere below them, Rosa still twirled, barely controlling the charger. He had to get to her to tell her that these weren’t ordinary evil mining company goons—these were soldiers and saboteurs.

  The man spit German words out, trying to dislodge Tom. This fight wasn’t going anywhere, and time was in short supply. Letting the soldier punch him in the ribs, Tom tried to ignore the pain and reached down to his boot. His hand wrapped around the oak handle of his bowie knife, and he drew it from the sheath.

  Sunlight glinted off the blade. The soldier fought harder to push Tom away. The man was obviously trained in combat and blocked Tom’s wrist, keeping Tom from stabbing him. But Tom wasn’t trying to cut him. Instead, Tom dug the edge of the blade into a leather strap that held the man to his ether pack.

  The strap split. The man slipped downward, but caught hold of the very bottom of the ether pack. Tom wrapped his hand in the leather strap and kicked down into the solder. The man’s grip broke. He fell away from Tom and the ether pack. Thirty feet later he hit the roof of the hotel and lay there, motionless.

  Tom sheathed his knife and wound himself into the remaining ether pack strap. It was off balance and awkward, but he was able to grab the control lever and take himself toward Rosa.

  She seemed to be doing better on the charger, leveling it out. Riding it was one thing. Riding and fighting was a whole other skill. The remaining Whisperer in the ether pack orbited her, trying to get a shot off with his ether pistol.

  “Right heel slows her down,” Tom shouted to her, still not close enough to help.

  The charger’s bucking eased. Rosa swung around in the saddle and took a shot at the man in the ether pack. The bullet barely missed him. She cocked her pistol and fired again. This shot came even closer, and the man had no interest in testing her a third time. His tetrol engine whined. He sped away, slipping to safety on the other side of the mining machine.

  Lurching in the air, Tom managed to get about ten feet over Rosa and the charger. “Steady her,” he called down.

  “What do you think I’m trying to do?”

  “Clear the saddle.” He had to time this perfectly. The charger slid back and forth beneath him and he swung, barely hanging onto the ether pack. Rosa shifted backward. He had to make his move now.

  He held his breath and let go of the ether pack. It slipped quickly up and away from him. Falling free, he tried to aim for the moving charger. His boots hit the saddle just as the craft turned away. He nearly bounced completely off the charger, but at the last second he managed to get a leg over the saddle.

  Rosa lurched forward, gripping his shirt. His fall halted, together they righted him in the saddle. The charger calmed under his control. They were soon flying straight and level—making them the perfect target. Shots chattered as the iron coach came around from the other side of the mining machine. Tom steered the charger evasively.

  Still gripping him close, Rosa spoke over the din of the machine gun. “You’re gonna have to teach me how to ride this thing.”

  “That was lesson number one. Did mighty fine. Better than me the first time.”

  It felt like he was fighting a headwind, but other than the bullets, the air was calm. Damn ether tank damage was making the charger sluggish. A quick glance to his fuel gauge didn’t boost his morale, either.

  He searched for a safe place to put them down. The Whisperers were out in the town, breaking windows and scattering the citizens. Screeching with smashed wood and crushed metal, the mining machine ate into the blacksmith’s. There was nowhere safe.

  “Gotta land.” A small pocket of quiet behind one of the fruit cannery buildings looked like the best place. “Need fresh water and tetrol.”

  She let go of him and unslung the Gatling rifle to fire back at the iron coach. Her bullets pinged against its side. The driver yanked on his levers, turning the metal wheels and kicking up dust in the opposite direction.

  It bought Tom enough time to make a straight approach from behind the building. But things weren’t quiet for long. A group of five Whisperers charged through the area, firing their shotguns into the high windows of the cannery and flushing out some townfolk from their hiding places.

  Most of the people made it to the safety of the forest, but two of them were exposed, and they hesitated at the edge of the thorny blackberry brambles. Rosa’s parents.

  “Dios mio.” She opened up with the Gatling rifle at the enemy. Dirt flew and the Whisperers ducked for cover behind crates and nearby trees.

  They were still ten feet off the ground, but Rosa wasn’t waiting. She swung off the back of the charger and landed with a roll. Part of Tom wanted to just watch her incredible body and fighting spirit. But this wasn’t the time to be idle.

  She ran, firing at a Whisperer behind a crate, until she was next to her parents. Tom brought the charger down fast, landing hard next to a tree and pulling his pistol. Firing twice on the run, he tried to pin down the Whisperer behind the crates. Tom waved Rosa over to a large tree and tried to shoot at a guard who came around the side of the canning building.

  Click. Tom’s gun was empty. He sprinted for the tree just as the Whisperer opened fire with his rotary shotgun. One blast missed, shredding the air just behind Tom. The next shot dug into the tree as Tom ducked behind it.

  “Did you hit any?” Rosa and her parents squeezed behind the tree with him.

  He quickly reloaded his pistol. “No. You?”

  She wound the clockwork on the Gatling rifle. “Not yet.”

  Tom gave her father a quick pat on the back and pinched the brim of his hat for her mother. “Howdy, Señor and Señora Campos.”

  They pushed through their fear to smile weakly back at him. Her father could only manage, “Hola.”

  “Still mad I’m back?”

  Rosa shot him a look. “This ain’t the time.”

  He stole a glance around the tree and saw a Whisperer break cover to join the other one behind the crates.

  “But we’re here, all cozy like.” He holstered his pistol, and Rosa handed him the Gatling rifle. “Two at the crates. That means
there’s three more running around.”

  She nodded, checking her pistol to make sure it was completely loaded.

  He continued to her parents. “It’s funny. If you’d asked me three days ago when I was setting out from the front, I’d have told you I was coming to Thornville because it was home. But that ain’t right. Like you said, I got no property, no claim. I came here because Rosa’s here.”

  A blush glowed on Rosa’s cheeks. He felt his own heat rising. Damn if, in the middle of all this, he didn’t want to find out how far across her body that blush traveled.

  He had to clear his throat. Speaking like this was easy. The bullets were flying, and there was no time to think. “Now, I don’t know if she’ll have me, but it’s my intention to spend every minute I’m not fighting at the front with her. And there ain’t a thing you can do to change my mind.”

  Shotgun blasts rang out and leaves shuddered free from the tree. On the other side of the building, the mining machine continued to chew into the town.

  Rosa shook her head, unbelieving, at Tom. “I told you this wasn’t the time.”

  He readied the rifle. “I’ll cover you to the crates, and hold ’em down.”

  She nodded and they both took a deep breath. Before they broke cover around opposite sides of the tree, her father grabbed her arm and her mother placed her hand on Tom’s shoulder.

  Her father spoke first. “Be careful, querida.”

  “I’m doing my job,” she said. “Better than anyone else.”

  Her mother shook Tom, emotion showing in her eyes. “We have to trust you now.”

  “I’ll shoot straight. I’ll keep her safe.” But there were no guarantees. Any second could bring death.

  This time, when they danced, Tom followed her lead. She gave a brief nod, and he swung around the tree, aiming the Gatling rifle at the crates where the Whisperers hid. He sent a stream of lead into the wood, keeping them pinned. Rosa sprinted away from the tree, rushing the crates.

  Fluid and graceful, she really was a predator defending her territory from evil. She fired once with her pistol, cocked it and fired again as she neared the crates. Tom broke cover and ran toward her. She leaned down and picked up a rotary shotgun from one of the fallen Whisperers.

  Just in time. The other three Hapsburg soldiers came out shooting. One of them burst out of the forest on Rosa’s side. Tom had to face the other two in the opposite direction as they sped around the corner of the canning building.

  He unleashed the rifle, taking out the two men. Rosa’s shotgun blasted behind him, and he knew she took care of the Whisperer on her side. There was a brief moment of quiet. He quickly wound the clockwork in the rifle. She collected a shotgun shell bandolier from one of the fallen men and slung it over her shoulder.

  “They’re Hapsburgs,” he told her as her parents cautiously approached from behind the tree.

  Her eyes went wide. “Crandall Mining is hiring Hapsburg soldiers?”

  “Don’t think they’re Crandall. More like saboteurs, trying to win the war the underhanded way. Shaking the morale of the people. I’ve heard of them trying to distribute fake newspapers in cities, just to scare the citizens.”

  She cracked open the shotgun and reloaded the spent chamber. “That’s no way to fight a war. This is our home.” Anger radiated out of her, and Tom almost pitied the enemy. “There’ll be no mercy for those Hapsburgs.”

  He picked up another shotgun from the ground near the crates and handed it to her mother. “Hold this area.”

  She nodded, determined.

  Taking her father over to the charger, he pointed out the necessary valves. “Fill her with water and tetrol.”

  “You got it.” Her father was already working on the machine when Tom rejoined Rosa.

  They readied themselves at the corner of the canning building. The din of the mining machine continued. Engine whining, the iron coach still patrolled somewhere out in the town. And there were still Whisperers on foot.

  He gave her a wink. “Three steps and we’re back in the battle.”

  There was a vicious gleam in her eye. “They’re playing our song.”

  They came around the building and rushed into the fight.

  THE MINING MACHINE was impossibly large. A mechanical god bent on destruction. She hadn’t seen it from ground level in the daylight. The beast seemed to loom all the way to the clouds.

  The blacksmith’s shop lay in smoldering ruins. The farrier’s next door was quickly being chewed to pieces. After that was the telegraph office. Anger welled in her, fueling the fight. It wasn’t a greedy mining company, it was the enemy of the whole country trying to destroy Thornville.

  “If we don’t stop them, they’re going to roll over every small town in their way.”

  Tom hadn’t strayed from her side. “Trying to break our backs. Setting fires through the country that could lead to anarchy. Cowards aren’t battling on the front line.”

  There were no Whisperers between them and the mining machine. She ran toward it, hoping there were enough shotgun shells to destroy every last piece of the technology. Peeking out from above the device, the remaining Whisperer with the ether pack readied his pistol.

  But he didn’t attack.

  Tom turned in the street, searching. “That ain’t good.”

  Engine screaming, the iron coach sped around a corner and bore down on them. Metal studded wheels flung dirt into the air. She slung the shotgun over her shoulder. Tom grabbed her arm to pull her back, but she tore out of his grip and dove forward.

  Her timing had to be perfect. Instead of being crushed by the tall wheels or having the nose of the coach smash her body to dust, she rolled under the vehicle. It passed over her, only about a foot above. Heat from the engine blasted like an oven. Just as the coach was about to clear past, she grabbed onto the rear hitch and was yanked along with it.

  She had a vague sense of Tom rushing after her, shouting her name, but she was too concerned with holding on for her life to pay much attention. Her shoulders burned, fingers ached. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself along the chassis. A final effort brought her boots up from skipping against the dirt. She curled herself onto the rear of the rolling machine.

  She saw Tom running toward her. He had the rifle ready, but couldn’t take a shot with her there. She motioned to him that she was planning on heading up. He nodded just before a bullet struck the ground next to him.

  Tom turned his attention to the attacking Whisperer with the ether pack, firing the Gatling rifle into the air. He ran and dodged as the Whisperer snaked through the sky, shooting back. Safe for a second behind cover, Tom waved her on.

  The coach bounced hard on tight springs, making her grip each handhold tightly as she climbed up the back. If she lost her grip, she’d be back on the ground. The driver wasn’t making it easy on her. He swerved hard to the left, swinging her out then slamming her hard into the metal sidewall when he swung back.

  Oh hell, he was bringing the vehicle around so the gunner could throw lead at Tom. She hauled herself higher until she stood on the roof of the coach. Crouching low for balance, she slowly walked forward, unslinging the shotgun.

  The armored driver caught sight of her and tried to draw a pistol. But he was weighed down by the metal encasing his body, and she was faster on the trigger. Her first blast punched a huge dent in the armor. One crank of the handle brought the next round to the chamber, and she fired, putting the shot in the gap between the armor’s arm and shoulder.

  A yell of pain echoed within the armor. The driver pitched forward and fell off the coach. Clanging loudly, the rear wheel rolled over his metal chest. The coach bucked hard and Rosa tumbled forward. She hit the deck, nearly losing her grip on the shotgun and sliding off the edge.

  But she managed to scramble into the driver’s seat and took the levers into her hands. The charger had been like trying to harness a whirlwind. Despite the speed and power of the coach, the controls made sense. She slowed the vehicle and
swerved to keep Tom out of the gunner’s sights. She saw the barrels of the Gatling gun shifting in the shooting slot below her feet.

  “I’m driving this time, Tom,” she shouted to him.

  He sent a spray of bullets toward the flying Whisperer and broke cover. One time, the two of them had chased adventure, hopping a northbound train and taking it as far as Santa Cruz. She’d made it on board first and watched him running to catch the ladder on the side of the freight car as it picked up speed. They were both laughing and didn’t stop until the kisses and sex took over. No laughs now, but she did watch him as he sprinted toward the coach. The Gatling rifle was loose and ready in his hand. Ammo packs were over his shoulder, as well as the TNT. His cavalry uniform was dusty and worn from the fight, but it only made him look more like a soldier, not a tin figure on parade.

  And Dios, if he wasn’t smiling when he made the final leap onto the side of the iron coach. He climbed up quickly and took up a position next to her.

  “This circus keeps getting better and better.” He fired at the flying Whisperer, who avoided his shots and sent two more down at them. Lead ricocheted off the metal top of the coach.

  “Farrier’s is almost gone.”

  He patted the satchel over his shoulder. “Still have some TNT. That’ll stop the beast.”

  The towering machine still lumbered forward, reaching out with the sharp saw and grinding teeth.

  “From the inside,” she said. “We’ve got to blow it up from the guts out.”

  With a wink and a quick smile, he pulled a stick of dynamite from the satchel. “First we take care of the gunner below. Ready to jump?”

  She collected herself, gripping the shotgun and slowing the coach to a sensible pace. He struck a match, cupped his hands around the flame and lit the fuse of the TNT. It was only going to be a short run to the mining machine. There were no Whisperers in their way.