“They’ve cut their way through to the central forge,” Goreth says, pointing down the canal. “This will take us there, if you just keep the course. We got message to start evacuating, though.”
“As I wished,” Elzia says, “Is Copin at the central forge?”
“Just him and a few others now, yes. The Border Guard have arrived, though, my Lady. They’re starting to secure the Construction Frame.”
“How?” Elzia frowns. “They can’t land those airships here.”
“No, on boats. They’ve got arms and legs, and can crawl over the rubble where we’d tried to destroy the canals. Some of our people are holding them back to the north, but we don’t have much time. They’re bringing in tanks.”
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Marquos says.
“Good,” Goreth says, “It’s good to see you again, boy.”
“I’m not sure,” the pilot answers, “You’re for this plan, Goreth?”
The Kand is put off by the question, and looks to Elzia for some explanation. She gives him an encouraging look back, and Goreth slowly replies “Whatever has to be done.”
“This wasn’t what I signed up for.”
“I am sorry for that,” Goreth says. “The problem with being a drifter, Marquos, is that sometimes you drift into situations like this. I thought by now you might have chosen your path.”
Marquos gives him a critical look back, nothing more.
13
The central forge is one of the most complex buildings in the Construction Frame, built securely from metal and designed to contain intense heats, so the flames have not consumed it even though it stands almost directly alongside the burning fuel tanks. The canal runs alongside it, under a metal frame used as a loading bay which has already collapsed into the water. Marquos has to bring the Hypnagogia to a stop before it, and the trio disembarks to enter the building on foot. A metal door leads into the main building, which is immediately impressive as a towering series of mechanical arms and immense casts that hang on pistons. The forge is well-lit by a series of gas lamps on all levels, left on, as well as the fire’s light that creeps in through cracks in the walls. The machinery is all at rest, abandoned in various states of use, looming over the room like giant relics of a dismantled robot. Marquos marvels at a magnificent semi-cylindrical cast, attached to a great pneumatic arm that must move it into place and use the mould for casting barrels. It is one of many similar machines that stand above them.
The centre-piece of the forge, which the whole building is designed around, is an enormous smelting pot, twenty feet high and surrounded by various safety rails and mechanical arms. Sheets of metal lie on the floor next to it, crumpled over some of the ramps as though dropped from a high height. The pot steams steadily, still full, still bubbling.
Goreth moves ahead of the others, looking around him for company, then heads straight past the smelting pot, out towards the opposite exit of the building. He trots back, shouting “They’re closing in here, we don’t have much time.”
Curiosity controlling him, Marquos runs past Goreth to check for himself, ducking under unused mechanics and slipping out through the other exit, where he can see between some of the huge industrial buildings to a fight unfolding a short distance away. Flashes of gunfire followed by puffs of smoke erupt from the buildings, as a steam-tank steadily rolls over the rubble. It is a solid metal case, only interrupted from its polygonal shape by a couple of vision slits and its chunky iron wheels. On its roof sits a small turret, protruding in a barrel that starts spinning and firing rapid shots at the building. Behind the tank, almost hidden by the cloud of its steam exhaust, a group of crouching men are carefully advancing.
Marquos ducks back into the forge and runs back to the smelting pot, where Goreth and Elzia have been joined by Copin. The bag for the bomb is gone; the device is now in Goreth’s hands, and he turns it over to carefully inspect it. It’s nothing more than a large metal box with a small door at the front, which Goreth opens and peers in at. Marquos storms up to them, demanding “Here? With all that fuel next to us? What are you thinking?”
“This is the heart of their war machines,” Goreth replies simply, “What more explanation do you need?”
“How are they doing out there?” Copin looks to the direction Marquos has come from. The gunfire is now audible in the forge, the fighting withdrawing towards them.
“They’ll be slaughtered,” Marquos says. “I don’t know what weapons you have, but you can’t stop that steam-tank.”
“Then let’s get this ready and hidden,” Elzia says. Goreth holds the bomb up and puts his hand into the bottom compartment. Marquos steps forward, puts his own hand on the bomb, and shakes his head, “I’m just...”
Elzia puts a hand on top of his, “You know that we’re bringing down something that needs to be brought down. It’s natural to be scared, but this is the first step towards creating a better tomorrow. The last Rosenbault went sour, but the next one will at least have a chance to do what we all need.”
Marquos stares back at her, the moment passing, and takes his hand back. The others stare at him warily, expecting more, but he says nothing. He takes a few steps away from them, fists clenched in frustration, and Goreth returns to the bomb. The Kand explains, “We set this off and it starts heating up, it boils the water in the tubes and the steam does the rest. I’ll try and adjust it to heat as slow as possible, but there’s no telling how long the mechanism takes. Maybe ten minutes, maybe an hour.”
“How fast can your boat move?” Copin asks Marquos. The pilot looks back at him angrily. Elzia says “You’re with us, now, Marq.”
“There’s no time for this,” Copin says, “Let’s get a move on already. If you’re not with us, Marquos, go join in with the tank. Flick it, Gore.”
The group are interrupted by the sound of footfalls entering the building; a number of people running through the forge. Goreth throws the bomb to Copin as he swings his axe up, ready for a fight, while Marquos edges around the Kands, towards the boat. The runners come into view as a band of battle-worn Kands, however, and Goreth lowers the axe with relief. At their head is Hart, a long rifle in her arms, and as she catches sight of Marquos he notices an unmistakable look of concern in her eyes, doesn’t he know it’s not safe here? Gunfire sounds behind the group, just outside the building, and the approach of the steam-tank is growing louder.
“Everyone get back through there, to the boat,” Goreth orders. He turns to Copin and Elzia, “You too.”
Elzia tells him “Hurry,” and turns to lead her small troop back out of the building, but Copin remains at his side. Marquos hesitates, twisting on the spot, but Hart snatches him by the arm and pulls the pilot along with her. She hisses into his ear “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Marquos stumbles, looking back over his shoulder as they all retreat, and sees Goreth fiddling with the bomb before slamming the door shut. As he looks around for a place to put it, two guards run into the forge with their guns raised. Goreth throws the bomb to Copin and raises his axe, charging at the men.
“Goreth!” Marquos yells, suddenly stopping, and the Kands around him turn back. Two of them raise their own guns and start firing at the guards, who duck away. They are distracted long enough for Goreth to bear savagely down on them with the axe, whilst Copin slips out of view beside the smelting pot. Hart has to drag Marquos away to get the pilot moving again, and they finally exit the building as the gunfire increases and more guards can be heard running into the forge.
The Hypnagogia is already being unmoored, the remaining Kands scrambling onto it and hurrying into the cabin to get the furnace going at full speed. Its pipes spew steam and smoke, the engine chugging, ready for action. Elzia stands at the stern, holding a hand out to Marquos as he approaches. She pulls him up next to her and immediately steps aside to let him get to the tiller. Hart climbs aboard and turns her rifle back towards the forge exit, waiting for more signs of life. Two more Kands from the grou
p stand at the forge, shooting in, but the ensuing battle is otherwise obscured.
“Get on the boat! We’ve got to go!” Elzia yells out to her retreating men, firing as they move.
“Goreth and Copin are still in there,” Marquos warns.
“I know,” Elzia replies, watching worriedly back to the door. A figure bursts out, an armoured man with a gun raised, and Hart immediately takes a shot at him, knocking the guard back through the door. A moment later Goreth follows, ducking as he leaves the building, staggering as though injured.
“Start moving, he’ll catch us up,” Elzia says, pushing Marquos to stir him into action. The pilot releases the throttle to begin reversing the Hypnagogia, and the turbine shudders as it changes direction. They are drawn backwards, slowly at fist.
“We’ve got a problem!” one of the Kands yells, pointing down the canal, past the crumpled structure that blocks their path, to the edge of the central forge building, where the tip of the steam-tank is visible turning the corner.
“Hurry!” Hart shouts out to Goreth as he stumbles along the bank holding his side. He has dropped his axe, and is coated in blood. Hart raises her rifle and fires again as a guard follows out from the forge, cocks the gun, holds it to her eye and aims back in. Another figure, another shot.
Marquos darts his eyes from Goreth’s run to the steam-tank’s approach, putting the boat in reverse at full speed. He gives one more glance to the forge entrance, thinking he sees a flash of Copin’s face as Hart fires again. He squints back, but whoever it was falls back into the building. There’s no time to dwell on it. Goreth draws up alongside the boat and makes a final leap to them, Kands on the side reaching out to him as he barely makes the distance. They pull him up onto the side of the boat and help him to the deck. The other Kands at the bow start scrambling with him, to take cover behind the cabin wall, as the steam-tank rolls into full view and its turret turns towards them.
“Everyone down!” Elzia screams, and the group on the boat all duck as one. The tank fires, a brilliant crack of a shot that bursts through the debris in front of them and whistles painfully close overhead. As soon as the shot has missed, the Kands leap up and start futilely returning fire. The bullets that hit the tank glance off in small sparks, the weapons of no effect, but the smoke from the numerous guns creates a cloud that drifts over the bow, concealing their retreat. A moment later, another boom from the cannon and the shot fires even higher, ripping through the smoke and heading off above.
“Where’s Copin?” Elzia yells to Goreth, but the latter shrugs, wincing as he holds a wound in his side. He replies grimly “I don’t know, I thought he was ahead of me.”
“Get down below,” the high leader pats him, then raises her voice, “Everyone take cover!”
There is a crash as the steam-tank ploughs into the debris by the building, tearing through the metal framework with simple ease, and Marquos peers over the roof of the cabin to see it heading down the bank towards them at a ferocious speed. Its turret cannot compensate for the speed, though, and moves too slow to aim, firing another blast that hurtles past them by the side. The Kands duck again, preparing their various weapons to keep firing. Marquos spies the tank’s wheels, massive thundering circles of metal that jump up and down over the rubble, rocking precariously close to the canal as the tank squeezes between the water and the forge.
“Shoot the bank!” Marquos yells, “Get the bank in front of it!”
The Kands look at him as they reload, accept the idea and rise together, firing off another barrage of shots that conceals them in smoke. Through the edges of the cloud, Marquos sees the shots cracking into the brick of the canal bank with a quick, concentrated succession that tears the floor apart. Bricks crumble into the water, moments before the steam-tank speeds into the patch. It is not enough; the wheel slams into the broken floor and jumps over it, taking the vehicle further on. It continues to gain on them.
“Again!” Marquos yells as the Kands prepare for another shot, “It’s still coming!”
“Everyone down!” Hart shrieks, eye on the tank’s turret, and the Kands duck lower than before as the next blast booms into the cabin of the Hypnagogia. Marquos yells in reflex horror, seeing the roof of his boat torn apart in a torrent of smoke and splintering wood. Amidst the debris, one of his new mugs is hurled up into the air and spirals back through the smoke, the whole world seeming to slow down. The Kands stand up in front of him once more, line up their guns and shoot, sideways now as the tank draws next to them. The boat speeds on ahead, leaving the smoke behind, the mug spinning down into the water. The steam-tank slips into Marquos vision, its wheel buckled inwards as it slams into the broken bank of the canal with a deafening crash. The Kands raise their guns and cheer. The massive hulk of moving metal jars upwards, then drops into the water with such force that a massive wave surges over the boat. The tank is not submerged immediately, bobbing once before being dragged down into a watery grave.
Marquos rests back against the tiller, breathing heavily, noticing now how fast his heart is beating. Even as they celebrate the Kands are looking back towards the ashen plains, keeping a close eye on the Construction Frame around them, watching for any further assault. The central forge is behind them now, but it is possible to make out swathes of guards emerging from it, desperately securing the area.
Elzia stands amongst her men, satisfied, and tells them “Good work, everyone. We’re not home free yet, though.”
Marquos watches the Construction Frame disappearing behind them as he reverses, turns back towards the city beyond the ashen plain and sees the fires still burning. The people are still fighting. The city is in chaos, and he is racing away with the people responsible.
14
The south-east district, beyond the horrific ashen plain, mirrors all that Marquos saw in approaching the Construction Frame. Fires rage sporadically throughout the buildings, with parts of the populations desperate to put them out and others desperate to flee. The riots are less dramatic, but only because the guards have less of a presence. They have evidently retreated, leaving only a few bodies and discarded weapons in their wake. Whether they have fled outright or merely moved to concentrate their efforts elsewhere is unclear, but with crowds smashing through buildings and running free with armfuls of stolen goods it is obvious the guards failed here.
The waterways are clear out of the city, not a single boat to be seen and the rest of the bridges still intact. In the untouched areas, crowds are still gawking in the streets, staring up at the fires without moving, generally in a reverent silence. Marquos has to wonder how long they can stand there staring for, considering these blazes have been going for days. Occasionally the people turn to watch the boat go past, a different novelty, and speculate to one another with whispers as to who this departing crew of warriors are. The Hypnagogia is certainly a suitable spectacle for them, rolling out from within the worst fires, half its cabin torn apart by the steam-tank’s shot, a group of shattered fighters spread across it with their flesh bloody and clothes shredded by the struggle.
The Kands remain quiet throughout the trip. Six of them have survived the forge battle, in addition to Hart, Goreth and Elzia, and they have all clearly been fighting for too long. They sit on his boat with their eyes turned to the floor, weapons hung loosely at their sides, completely depleted. Those that are wounded are helped silently, no need for conversation when wrapping rags around damages. Marquos dreads the thought that they might run into more guards, seeing that this crew are done, but their worn resignation dampens his fears, as though an attack is no longer possible against a group who have been through so much. One wiry warrior in particular gives him a knowing, satisfied nod, that says they are done. He holds out a hand to Marquos, gives his name in a gravelly voice, “Raifus,” and tells the pilot “Did good, boatman,” conclusive enough for the pilot to relax.
Goreth remains in the shattered cabin, perched on a chair with a cloth tied tightly around his waist. He hangs his head between
his knees, not interested in moving. Elzia is more active, and joins in with patching up anyone that needs it. As she ties scraps of clothing over bleeding wounds her men look awkwardly ashamed, not expecting such treatment from a person they consider royalty. She offers Marquos the occasional encouraging smile when she finds him looking at her. He does not look away, too worn out to care if he might cause offence by staring. He tries to figure out exactly what he’s seeing. Young and beautiful, her face and body more exposed in this bulky armour than he has seen her before, her majesty seems to only take on more charm when she interacts as one of the soldiers. Her beauty and strength seem almost unnatural, untouchable, as Copin first said. Marquos stares with wonder, and in turn Hart, sat his side, watches the pilot. When Marquos catches Hart looking, she does glance away uncomfortably. He does not want to broach what’s on her mind. Not with all the other Kands surrounding them.
The boat rolls out of Thesteran and down the waterways heading towards the plains, back towards Chapel Way, until they are a healthy distance from any buildings, concealed once again in darkness, with a wall of mountain to the left. Elzia decides when they have gone far enough and asks that Marquos pull the boat to a stop so they can take stock of the situation. The bomb has not gone off. The high leader tells her men to disembark from the Hypnagogia and start to head towards their previously decided meeting point, somewhere in the plains. Hopefully their fellow fighters will be waiting there. She says she will catch up with them, but wants to talk with Marquos first.
Marquos stands at the stern offering nods and handshakes as the gang of Kands leave. They drag themselves away into the night with little fuss, off towards an empty expanse of country, refusing his offers of food but happily accepting his last bottle of glus. He doesn’t know if he should feel proud of aiding their fight or appalled at what he is a part of, but looking aside to Elzia’s bright eyes he has an idea that she is going to make it seem as though all they have done is right. Hart and Goreth remain on the deck with them.
Wixon's Day Page 31
