The sun had moved overhead while they flew, and had now begun its gentle slide towards the western horizon behind the Lady Fair. The landscape ahead was bright with colorful forests and golden fields. A flock of large blackbirds flew past the ship. They soared up ahead, forming strange kite-like patterns in the air as they turned in unison from one direction to the next. For a moment, they were a dark sail fluttering on the wind, then they turned and became almost invisible, and then reappeared a split-second later.
“I wanted to tell you something,” River said, her eyes fixed on the birds. “I wanted to thank you for what you said yesterday; the way you stood up for me.”
“I was just speaking the truth,” said Micah. “The problems we’ve had since we left Port Haven aren’t your fault. If anyone is to blame, it’s Socrates.”
“You can’t really mean that!”
“Of course I do. Think about it: Socrates is smarter than all the rest of us put together. He knew about Burk. He knew the man was trouble. He should have done something about it weeks ago. Now, it’s too late. The damage is done, and it could have been prevented.”
“He acted fairly,” said River. “He gave Burk every chance to redeem himself.”
“Agreed. I can’t condemn Socrates for that. I only want you to see the bigger picture. There is nothing you could have done to prevent all of this.”
“I should have listened to Socrates’ orders. If we’d gone straight on to New Boston, we’d still have the train.”
“We might still have the train, but the Vangars would still have the starfall. Would that be any better?”
“I don’t know,” she said, sighing. “It’s impossible to say what they were planning to do with it.”
“Nothing good,” said Micah. “I can promise you that much.”
“How am I supposed to know if I made the right decision? Would Burk still have found a way to take the train? Would the Vangars have done something horrible with the starfall? If I can’t know these things, then how can I know that I made the right choices?”
“I don’t know,” Micah said with a grin. “Being a leader isn’t easy. Anybody who says that either hasn’t done it, or is doing it wrong.”
“I never asked for this. I never wanted to be a leader.”
“That’s probably why Socrates chose you in the first place.”
River looked at him, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“Good leaders are rare. Aspiring leaders are a dime a dozen. Take your friend Kale, for example. He’s tall and strong, and good-looking. A natural-born leader.”
“I suppose.”
“And yet, what sort of a leader do you think he would make? Would you want to follow him?”
River chuckled. “Not at all.”
“See what I mean? Kale has all of the natural gifts, but he’s all ego and bravado, constantly trying to prove how brave and strong he is. In his mind, he’s like a child. He doesn’t have the sense to think about the consequences of his decisions. He may overcome that one day, but by then he won’t want to be a leader, either.”
River laughed. “I think I see what you mean. I would rather hand this responsibility off to him, but I’d be too horrified of what he might do with it.”
“Exactly. That’s why Socrates and the others chose you.”
River sighed. She turned her attention back to the view, considering all that Micah had said. As usual, she couldn’t find fault with any of the halfling’s advice.
Over the next hour, the sun sank behind a dark band of clouds and the sky to the west turned brilliant orange and crimson. The shadows lengthened across the landscape, and the first stars appeared overhead. Micah had gone to rest in a hammock below deck, but Pirate remained faithfully at River’s side. As she gazed out across the land into the deepening twilight, River saw a glint of light up ahead, and her heart leapt. She hurried to the helm and found Rowena’s spyglass. The captain was mid ship at the time. She noticed River’s excitement and followed her to the bow.
“What do you see?” Rowena said, climbing the stairs as River gazed through the glass.
“I don’t know… It’s not the Horse.”
“Let me see.”
River handed her the spyglass, and Rowena took a look. “Just as I thought,” she said, closing the scope.
“What is it?”
“That’s New Boston. And if you look to the right, at the southern edge of the city, I believe you will see what you are looking for.”
River took the spyglass back and took another look. Peeking out through the distant hills, she saw a skyline of twinkling lights, and one lone dirigible drifting slowly across the sky. As she swept across the scene, River focused in on the shadowy area south of the city. The shapes and forms separated from the darkness, and her jaw dropped.
“That’s not just the Horse,” she said. “I see other trains! What is that place?”
“It’s a depot. Trains are not unknown in this part of the world. New Boston has many of them, though all of them are non-functional.”
“Why is that?”
“Because they’re a thousand years old,” Rowena said with a laugh. “Maybe more, and they’re not steam-powered.”
“Then how do they work?”
“Who knows?” said Rowena.
River put the scope back to her eye. “The Vangars made engines that ran on oil,” she said. “That’s why they first came to Astatia. They were running out of fuel.”
“They were looking for oil, but found starfall instead?”
“Exactly.”
“Perhaps these engines are similar,” said Rowena. “Maybe you could figure out how to operate them… though I suspect your concerns lie elsewhere.”
“You’re right. Do you think you can set our tender car down on the Horse?”
“I’m certain of it, but you should secure the train first. I will drop you and your crew nearby, and then wait for you outside the city. When Burk has been dispatched, we will proceed with your plan.”
River handed her the spyglass. “I’ll get my crew ready,” she said.
The Lady Fair set down on a dark snow-patched field south of the city. River and the others quickly disembarked, and the ship vanished into the night sky. The air was cold and their breath came in frost gusts as River looked her crew over. Thane was there, along with Loren and Micah and Shayla, and all the rest. They looked exhausted. Some were frightened. But she knew they were ready to fight for their train. The Iron Horse was their home.
“Stay close,” River said. “Be ready for anything.”
They crept across the field, making their way towards the depot at the edge of town. In the distance, they saw the lights of hundreds of buildings. The dirigible was tethered to the roof of the tallest building in the city, right at the heart of New Boston. It drifted slowly back and forth, tugging gently on the ropes that held it secure. River heard sounds echoing across the landscape: the unmistakable chugging noises of a large steam engine somewhere in the distance, the blare of an air horn, the tinny sounds of music drifting out of a saloon.
The railroad depot rose up from the shadows, a long, squat, brick building beside a field of tracks. The area was littered with rusty old railcars and locomotives, and running right through the center of it all was the Iron Horse, dark and silent. River drew her team close together.
“We’ll split up,” she said in a whisper. “I’ll take one group in through the front of the train. Loren, you lead the rest through the back. We’ll meet up in the middle.”
“What if we find Burk?” said Loren.
“Don’t kill him. Not until we find out exactly what he’s been up to. He may have information about the Vangars that we can use.”
With that, they separated. River climbed onto the empty tender car platform. She tested the handle on the door, and found it unlocked. She drew her revolver and motioned for the others to follow her inside. Noiselessly, they filed into the empty passenger car. River cautiously opened the rear door,
and slipped into the passageway between the cars. She found the next railcar dark and empty as well.
This went on for several minutes. Each car they entered was cold and abandoned. Along the way they discovered that several bunkhouses had been broken into, and all of their valuables had been stolen. Eventually, they met up with Loren’s group in the dining car.
“Anything?” River said as they walked in.
“Quiet as a ghost town,” Loren said. “The armory and food stores were emptied.”
“Burk took everything of value before he abandoned the train,” said Vann.
“Why would he do that?” said Micah. “Why would Burk just leave the Iron Horse?”
“The Horse was out of fuel,” said River. “It takes hard work to keep the train running. Why go to all that trouble, when he could just sell our supplies and equipment? It was easy money for him, and in the process, he got to sabotage our mission. That was probably his plan all along.”
“He might still be in the city,” said Micah. “He had to unload all of those supplies somewhere.”
“Good point,” said Loren. “We’ll split up and find him. We should be able to cover the whole city by morning.”
“Not yet,” said River. “Kale, go light the signal fire so Rowena knows it’s safe to return our tender car. The rest of you take an inventory of everything that was stolen. As soon as Socrates is running-”
“About Socrates…” Vann interrupted. River stared at him.
“Well?” she said.
“Socrates is… he’s gone.”
“Gone? You mean dead? I know, but if we refill his fuel cell he might…”
“No,” Vann said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Socrates is gone. Burk took him.”
River’s chest tightened. She glanced at Loren. The Tal’mar warrior nodded his confirmation.
“He wouldn’t…” she mumbled.
She turned, pushing her way through the group. She left the dining car and went flying down the darkened passageways. Slanted beams of starlight shone through the windows as she flitted from one car to the next. River slammed the doors open when she came to them, one so hard that the glass shattered, leaving razor sharp shards lying scattered across the floor. She came to a pile of trash left by Burk and his cohorts, and River leapt across it in one bound. Moments later, she burst into the engineering car. Pirate had been fast on her heels, and he leapt onto her shoulder as she entered the darkened room.
Like the rest of the train, it was chilly and ghostly quiet. The cabinets had been flung open, the valuables stolen, those contents deemed unworthy cast aside on the wooden plank floor. The chemical odor of grease and kerosene filled her nostrils. Cold moonlight fell across the bare surface of the worktable where River had left the automaton’s body. Tufts of deep blue fur stuck out of a sharp corner, and the leather straps that had held Socrates in place now dangled down to the floor, sliced through the middle because Burk hadn’t taken the time to work the buckles.
River heard a noise and spun around to see Micah standing in the doorway. The halfling looked up at her, his gray flesh and impish features like carved stone in the silver light. His dark eyes were shining orbs of obsidian staring at her out of the shadows.
“Burk did something to Socrates, didn’t he?” Micah said. “If he hurt Socrates, I’m going to… I don’t know what, but it will be terrible!”
River drew her revolver and checked the cylinder. “Help the others. Once we have our starfall, fill a vial and have it ready for me.” She stepped around the workbench and brushed past him on her way out the door.
“Wait! Where are you going?” Micah called after her.
“To find Socrates,” she said, returning her revolver to the holster.
“What about Burk?”
River turned away without an answer.
“You shouldn’t go alone,” Micah said. “Burk is dangerous!”
“So am I,” she said through clenched teeth, and disappeared into the hall.
River stopped by her quarters long enough to lock Pirate in her bunkroom. “You have to stay here,” she said apologetically, stroking his fur. She pulled a treat bag out of her nightstand and tossed a few chunks of jerked meat onto the bed next to him. “I really am sorry, but it might not be safe for you where I’m going. Do you understand?”
He stared at her with big eyes, and River forced herself not to change her mind. She hated locking him up, hated it with a passion, but it was for his own good. Besides, it wasn’t as if her bunkroom was a cage. Pirate had plenty of room to move around, plenty of food and water… it was nothing like a Vangar prison cell. She stepped into the hall and pulled the door shut.
The swollen moon cast a silvery glow through the haze that hung over the city, and the smell of firewood and burning coal lent an acidic tinge to the night air. River’s breath gushed out in fountains of steam, and goose bumps rose on her naked arms. She stealthed across the frost-covered rail yard, glistening patches of snow and ice-covered mud puddles littering her path as she circled around the outside of the depot.
River stepped onto the icy boardwalk at the front of the depot, facing the city. Steel benches lined the boardwalk, facing the muddy street. The wooden floorboards creaked under her boots and the frost made crunching sounds with every step. River hid herself in the shadows at the corner of the old brick building, beneath a cluster of trees, and scanned the area for dangers.
Scattered torches illuminated the roads at the edge of town, but the streets were empty. The buildings were old and derelict, built mostly of bricks or exposed timbers with shingled siding. None were more than four stories tall. A few had windows, but most had been busted out, left exposed to the elements for decades at the very least. This section of the city, River realized, was very old. Ancient, perhaps. The depot itself was a relic from a long-forgotten past. The buildings around it were little more than ruins. She suspected that people had lived here throughout the centuries, one generation passing the land down to the next, each successive generation caring less about the past as their city fell to ruin around them.
River heard music in the distance, the haunting, metallic, almost mechanical sound of a harpsichord, the rhythmic drive of a large bass drum, and something else, a flute perhaps; a gentle moaning sound that floated effortlessly above the cacophony. The tune was oddly disjointed, rising and falling in tempo and pitch, but then suddenly latching onto a theme, and clinging to it desperately as if one moment of order could subdue the chaos. The music wailed, gasping, struggling until at last, exhausted and spent, it fell into deathly silence. Then, without warning, the music picked up again. It was a new song moving in a new direction, searching for some fresh inspiration to renew the cycle and weave the scattered elements together into a cohesive melody. The musicians, she realized, were improvising.
River had never heard such music before. In Avenston, where she grew up, music had been all but forbidden by the Vangar overlords. She had been exposed to music, but only to small instruments lovingly crafted by human hands, instruments purposefully designed to make soft sounds, and therefore unlikely to attract unwanted attention. This music was different. It was bold, striking. It demanded her attention.
River traveled five blocks north, drawn forward by that haunting, possessive sound. Up ahead, light came streaming out through the door of a seedy-looking tavern. Over the music, raised voices drifted into the street, the sounds of laughter and shouting and loud conversation. River heard whistling up ahead, and a light tapping sound. She stepped back into the shadows between two buildings.
At the end of the block, a clean-shaven man wearing a blue uniform and a tall, narrow-brimmed hat came around the corner. He was whistling quietly, tapping a nightstick on the walls of the buildings as he walked along. She moved deeper into the shadows, waiting for him to pass.
As the sound of the constable’s nightstick faded into the distance, River heard shuffling behind her. She turned just as a match flared to life. Two men stood facing
her, a tall, thin man with a goatee, wearing a long coat and top hat, and a shorter, much older man with white hair. It was the second who struck the match, and who now held the flame to the wick of a lantern. As it burst to life, flickering yellow light filled the alley. He grinned, displaying a mouth full of broken and rotting teeth.
“What have we here?” said the tall man.
“Looks like a lost little girl, Lank,” said his elderly companion.
River took a step back, her hand drifting to the handle of her revolver.
“What’s that?” said Lank. He took a step forward and the shiny blade of a stiletto appeared in his hand. “Come on then, give it over.”
River glanced over her shoulder. The street behind her was dark, deserted. The constable was long gone. She released her grip on the handle of her firearm and took a step back.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said.
The two men looked at each another and laughed heartily. “She’s not gonna hurt us!” declared the old, silver-haired man. “Did you hear that?”
“Good news for us,” said Lank, chuckling as he tested the blade of his stiletto against his thumb.
A pair of arms snaked around her from behind. River twisted, trying to struggle free, but the man who held her had muscles like bands of steel. She threw her elbow back, driving it into her attacker’s shoulder, but to no effect. She reached down, prying against his hands, and recognized the blue sleeves of his uniform. It was the constable.
“She’s a strong one,” he said in a gravelly voice.
“Nice catch, Shepp!” said the old man, eyeing River up and down. “This one’s gonna be fun.”
Chapter 19
Lank stepped forward and put his blade to River’s throat. “How do you like that, girlie?” he said. He was close enough that River could smell the rotten decay of his breath, the filth of his unwashed clothing and body. The older man came forward, holding the lantern high. Along with him came a gust of alcohol fumes. She turned her head to the side, trying not to breathe.
Killing the Machine (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 2) Page 16
