This Deadly Engine Read online

  Six lizards lined up to fight us until I said, “We are not easy prey. There are better opportunities elsewhere.” When I cracked my knuckles and they looked across the freak army, they nodded and stepped out of our way.

  Useless sun worshippers.

  We walked through the front entrance and found ourselves in a building that equaled of the luxury of Duke Schaever’s underground realm. The smell of coal and electricity permeated the air. Polished stone covered the floor. Long rugs ran in a grid-like pattern beneath a pair of the most incredible, luxurious airships the world had ever known. Both stretched six hundred feet in length, as far as I guessed such a distance. Gold lines contrasted against the Schaever green on the envelopes and converged at the nose. In the same way, the gold Schaever badger stood out on the tail.

  A two hundred feet long, fifty feet wide, and three-floor high gondola sat beneath each envelope. Windows lined the top floor, while the middle floors had round port holes every ten feet. Six gun ports lined the bottom floor, all of which were open and each of which held a cannon. Gold paint on the sides and green paint on the bottom finished the gondolas.

  Airmen swarmed about both airships. Voices called for the ships to launch. The engines on the left airship roared in response. The mooring ropes fell to the ground. The ship began its ascent.

  “Quickly,” Cavendish said as the airmen secured the ladders on the second ship. The propellers on the engines began to spin.

  We raced for the ship.

  As soon as the first airship cleared the hangar, the dragons attacked. Unlike the other airships, the battle-ready airship fought back. Its cannons boomed, dragons shrieked, and streaks of fire flashed across the sky. One of the creatures fluttered to the ground with a shattered wing. It blasted fire at anything in its path, forcing us to take a wide turn.

  As we approached the second airship, a line of eight airmen blocked our path. They all held the long-barreled boarding guns at the ready. Their commander said, “Halt or we will shoot.”

  I said, “Move aside. We are going to board that ship.” I removed Perrin’s two pistols from the holsters.

  “See?” my resident cyclops said. “We did need non-magic items after all.”

  Our small army stopped twenty feet from the airmen. Several of the men turned pale at the sight of so many freaks. Guns shook in nervous hands.

  Before I calmed the situation, The Misters stepped out. Their odd appearance pushed one of the airmen’s nerves over the edge. He fired and struck The Misters on the left arm.

  The freak army did not hesitate to charge.

  The airmen did not hesitate to open fire.

  Fortunately, the collective unease of the airmen caused many of their shots to go wild. Unfortunately, two of the freaks, the lady with the mechanical legs and the man with the exposed skeleton, fell. The rest overwhelmed our obstacle, and we left a row of dead men as we pushed forward.

  “You should have shot when you had the chance,” Perrin said. “This dilemma you have with death will see us both dead if you do not put aside your misplaced notions of right and wrong and of honor.”

  “I like to think I have a respect for life.”

  The cyclops grunted. “I know you, and I know that you are really afraid.”

  The mooring lines fell from the second airship as its engines roared. Goldy threw Cavendish at the last ladder. The small creature hurled forward, arms and legs stretched out. His hat flew off his head as he sped towards the ladder, which jostled in the wind. He appeared to pause in the air, as if he lost all momentum. The ladder swung away as if it tried to avoid him. Then he grabbed the bottom rung. He scampered up so fast that he hardly paused to make sure he had a firm grip. When he reached the bottom of the gondola he disappeared inside.

  The freak army gathered beneath the hatch as the airship rose higher.

  Three ropes dropped to the ground. Cavendish motioned for us to grab hold.

  “Go,” I said as I helped a lady with a metal hand and a marble eye grab a rope. Others followed, including The Misters and Goldy.

  I grabbed the rope last. It groaned under my weight. I pulled myself up as quick as a lumbering, fatigued, and wounded frame could manage. The wound on my right side protested. Yells sounded from above as I climbed.

  Airmen and Guardsmen fought with the freaks, trying to keep us off. Cavendish hacked and slashed among them.

  Bullets whistled by my ear, encouraging me to climb faster. The rope shook as a Guardsman sawed on the end with a long knife. He watched with a smugness that I wanted to knock off his face. He knew he had me, especially when the rope gave way and twisted.

  The airship carried me further from the safety of the ground. Not more than a few feet away, yet what seemed like a hundred yards, a ladder waited.

  Perrin said, “We can do this. We have both been through worse situations. We are fighters. We are survivors.”

  I reached for the lowest rung. My fingers brushed it.

  The rope twisted again.

  I stretched…and grabbed the rung as the rope fell away.

  The Guardsman cursed when the spider lady jumped on his back.

  I swung around and grabbed hold with my other hand. I took a deep breath as my wounds gave a most violent protest.

  I will do this. I will not die by falling from this ladder.

  The Guardsman who tried to assure such an end for me yelled as he fell past, waving his arms and legs.

  As I climbed again, Cavendish appeared. “The ship is ours!” He waited for me, then helped me onto the lower deck.

  I rolled onto my back and took deep breaths.

  Perrin said, “See? We did it. Now get up and keep moving. There are dragons to slay.”

  I had flown on an airship only one time. I stowed away on a cargo ship at the age of thirteen. We traveled from Portsmouth all the way to Edinburgh before one of the crew discovered me as I looked out one of the few windows in the cargo hold. As magnificent as that airship appeared to the eyes of my younger self, it did not compare to Schaever’s mechanized, battle machine of extravagance.

  Six cannons and fifteen seats lined each side of the deck. The seats folded down from the side and could be buttoned securely out of the way. Cages full of equipment, from guns and rifles, to helmets and masks, to clubs and poles, waited above the seats. Along the ceiling and three feet apart, iron hooks were attached to spindles of ropes, which ended at ties around metal brackets. Four spindles, each above a door, held the now-furled ladders. Two large lights, one in the front and one in the rear, could produce a white light bright enough to penetrate the night for hundreds of feet. Two dozen airmen were scattered across the room, either dead or knocked unconscious.

  Cavendish stared at the clock at the front of the room. Twisted metal arms ended at arrow points. The face consisted of concentric circles, with the numbers highlighted in gold. Gears moved behind the circles, keeping the perfect time for all synchronized maneuvers.

  “You can take it later,” I said as I moved to the steep, metal stairs next to the clock.

  Cavendish, Ravenlea, and I climbed to the next deck where the sleeping quarters waited. We passed luxurious rooms with velvet drapes, plush beds, chairs, a washroom for men, and a washroom for women.

  We hurried to the top deck and found an open space with cushioned chairs, a galley, tables for dining, and telescopes for looking across the land. Cavendish led the way to a room at the front. We passed several unconscious airmen. An open hatch invited us into a small room with windows from one edge to the other. Four chairs, two in the front and two in the back, greeted us. A small table sat between the two rear chairs. Goldy occupied the front right chair. He rubbed his hands together before he adjusted gauges and levers.

  Cavendish hopped into the co-pilot’s chair. He eyed the array of controls like a child eyeing a display of candies and chocolates and sweets, any and all for the taking. He reached for a lever with a tentative hand.

  Goldy said, “Slowly push it forward.” />
  When Cavendish did so, the engines grew louder. The airship gained speed.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” I asked.

  Goldy nodded. “It’s a machine, and I know machines. Though it has been many years since I saw an airship’s bridge, I remember what to do…even if this bridge is far more advanced than any airship I flew.” He gripped the wheel, a small version of what steered a sea-going vessel, in front of his chair. “I like the changes.” He lifted another handle, and a great whoosh followed a sudden lift. The airship pointed higher. I gripped the co-pilot’s seat to keep from sliding backwards.

  Goldy turned the airship to the right. He pushed the lifting lever down. The airship leveled as it continued to turn.

  We faced the other airship and witnessed the end of its battle with the dragons. Fires burned on all its decks, along with a dozen places across the envelope. The engines smoked as the grand machine fell. The windows on the top deck cracked from the heat.

  A dragon sat on the top and let out a triumphant screech.

  Perrin said, “By the Seven Hills, that is Szerander. How did they convince that monster to help?”

  The cyclops’ memories provided the picture: the eldest and smartest of the dragons, the one who survived the First Great Conflict, who alone had torn apart Nath, the great cyclopean city. It had claimed the fissures created by the fall of Reganas Four as its own.

  I asked, “What is that on its back?”

  Goldy said, “An elf.”

  Even as Perrin wondered how they had turned the creature, the dragons focused their collective attention on us. Four moved on a direct path while three more circled overhead. Blasts of magic shot from the lowest deck, striking the beasts.

  Szerander looked at me. Its black eyes pierced my single eye as if it knew me better than I knew myself. It leapt from the flame-engulfed airship. A long, deep cry filled the night.

  The other dragons responded with their own cries, though none carried the same depth of emotion.

  As Szerander flew towards us, flashes appeared along its neck. The pop of guns followed.

  On the right, a dozen flying Guardsmen challenged the dragon. None other than Reckard directed the attack. Each of his men wore the rocket pack the green-hued Reckard had advertised at the Expo. Gears turned a single fin on top of a rectangular box with round edges. A tube on either side of the box connected to a pair of cylinders, each of which tapered to a narrow circular opening which belched a constant cloud of smoke. Vents along the edge of each cylinder glowed red within.

  My old friend had no need of the pack, however. The flying elixir still flowed in his veins.

  The Guardsmen circled the legendary creature and fired shot after shot.

  What would Reckard do if he knew he protected me?

  Szerander lashed out with its tail and sent one of the Guardsman tumbling across the sky.

  Part of me wished it was Reckard…and not necessarily the Perrin part. Another part of me thanked my old friend for his assault on the dragon. His men focused on its eyes and on the controlling elf.

  Perrin said, “It would be better to keep the elf alive. If she dies, then no one will control the beast.”

  Szerander bellowed flames that temporarily scattered the Guardsmen.

  Reckard rallied them as he pressed the attack. He aimed a large elephant gun at the elf.

  Goldy pushed the altitude lever down. We began a sharp descent as he spun the wheel in the other direction, turning us from the dragon fight.

  A bullet cracked the glass, making all of us jump in surprise.

  “Hold on,” Goldy said.

  Something in his tone, the devilish manner in which he spoke urged me to ask, “Why? What are you doing?”

  “Getting you to church on time. We have a wedding to crash.”

  We flew over the Expo, and it gave the appearance that the world burned. People fled in all directions as they sought to escape the spreading flames of judgment. Several groups from the Fire Brigade tried to push the fires back, but they had to contend with orcs and giants intent on killing them and destroying their equipment.

  Skirmishes raged along the edges of the long pool as Guardsmen engaged orcs and giants. They protected pockets of trapped people.

  With dragons attacking anything that flew, the water tankers would be unable to help battle the flames. Campden faced serious trouble.

  I wished I could do something to help.

  The airship shuddered and dropped when a dragon gripped the side of the gondola. The creature stared at the four of us. The sight of the gnomes made drool drip from the edges of its long snout.

  Two booms sounded, and the dragon fell. Blood gushed from holes on its sides.

  A cheer erupted from the lowest deck.

  Two more dragons circled. One scorched the rear of the ship, but no fire took hold.

  Reckard flew from the right with a dragon fast behind. He twisted and aimed at the creature’s face. The velocity enhancer on the back of his gun glowed so hot that it smoked. He fired. The resulting hit shattered the scales on the dragon’s neck.

  The creature cried as if mortally wounded. It circled as it drifted to the ground.

  Reckard smiled and saluted as he flew in front of us. When he spotted Cavendish, his expression changed from satisfaction to contempt and scorn. He simply eyed me with disdain.

  The gnome said, “I genuinely despise that man.”

  I said, “Not as much as I.”

  Reckard hovered in front of the ship. He motioned for his men. Three Guardsmen answered. He pointed to us, and all four aimed their weapons.

  Goldy turned the airship. We took cover as they fired.

  Bullets ripped through the glass and passed over us.

  Goldy sat straight and turned the airship back towards Saint James’. “A friend of yours?”

  “Once,” I said.

  The first airship crashed in a ball of flames. The wave of heat that erupted from it pushed our airship higher. Goldy muttered to himself as he adjusted the controls.

  Battles continued as the Guardsmen attacked dragons, dragons attacked the airship, those on the airship attacked the Guardsmen, and the Guardsmen returned fire. The fury of the dragons drove two of the creatures to turn on each other.

  Reckard reloaded his gun. He appeared calm, as if he conducted the chaos of the skies.

  “It’s time for us to abandon the bridge,” I said.

  Goldy agreed and the four of us retreated to the observation deck. A moment later, bullets ripped into the bridge.

  The airship shuddered.

  Dragons screeched, and two booms sounded from below. The pop of guns followed.

  A dragon fell, as well as a Guardsman.

  Reckard hovered lower. He tried to reload his gun but had to stop to avoid shots from the freak army.

  What would The Misters do when they saw their errant thief? What would they—

  A blast of lightning struck Reckard with such force that it sent him tumbling, head-over-heels through the air. His gun flew out of his hands. He disappeared over the town.

  Flames spread from the bridge onto the observation lounge. Dragons continued their assault despite the furious resistance from below. The airship was as doomed as her twin.

  The spires of Saint James’ Cathedral appeared before us.

  The bow dipped, and I gripped a chair to keep from falling.

  Another flash and boom and a crash sounded from below. The airship tilted to the right.

  I grabbed the gnomes and ran for the stairs. “Hold on tight.”

  “Ash…” Cavendish pointed to the right.

  Through the holes we watched the nose of the airship slam into the north spire of the Cathedral. The frame of the gondola shook before it crunched against the side of the building.

  The bells rang as the impact knocked them to and fro. Ripping metal and crashing stone and splintering wood all combined to create a sickening symphony of destruction.

  My fingers s
lipped as I held onto the base of an observation telescope.

  Perrin said, “Remember, I have endured worse. We can continue to hold on.” A flash of memory of endless hours of hauling rocks from the mines put our current predicament into perspective.

  More explosions rocked the airship, and the movement forward slowed. The ship hesitated before it fell. Cracks and creaks and groans followed as the airship ripped along the side of the Cathedral. A sudden impact followed, along with the explosion of wood. The shock knocked me off the base of the telescope. I curled into a ball, holding Cavendish and Ravenlea in my arms. We rolled towards the bottom. Rubble buried us.

  Darkness followed, as well as quiet.

  Am I dead? Is this it?

  Am I breathing? Am I seeing? Is that the smell of wood burning? And what is that distant sound? Are people yelling for help?

  “Ash?” a familiar voice said, but from far away. “Are you alive? Ash?” Hands pushed on my shoulder.

  Or did I imagine I had died? Perhaps I did, for aches made themselves known.

  “We live,” Perrin said with a pained voice. “My body is not yet finished.”

  “Ash, get up.” The stinky breath of a gnome filled the air. Hands beat on my chest. “Ash, we need to get out of here. I’m trapped.” Panic forced the little man’s voice higher. “And there’s fire and…”

  I opened my eye.

  Smoke filled the air. Cavendish beat on me more, though his small fist felt similar to small pieces of ice striking me as I faced the Westward Storm.

  I pushed a twisted piece of metal away. It left a deep cut across my right bicep. Blood soaked my shirt, and the wound needed tending soon. But the sight of yet more fire gave a certain urgency to escaping.

  Men yelled, ordering the area cleared, while bricks gave way with a groan. A bell rang, though with a muted sound. Someone said, “The spire…falling…”

  Cavendish held onto Ravenlea. He pointed straight ahead.

  Goldy stood beside him. Blood ran down the man’s left temple and cheek. “I’ll live, if that’s what you are wondering. But not unless you clear that wreckage.” He also pointed straight ahead.