Tinker's War (The Tinkerer's Daughter Book 2) (9 page)

Corsan considered that. “I was in love once,” he said. “A young girl named Sanja. She had brown hair and beautiful dark skin and the most spectacular long legs…” he trailed off as he remembered who he was talking to. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I wanted to marry her. I even asked her, but she said no. She said she was too young and she wanted to travel, to see more of the world.”

“That sounds sensible,” I said.

“Aye, I thought so. I certainly didn’t argue with her. But I should have.”

“What do you mean?”

He stared at the ground, with a distant look. “A year later, in the winter, she fell ill. It was a miserable sickness, like a flu that just got worse every day until she withered away to nothing. The doctors tried everything, but they couldn’t help her. By spring, the sickness had all but consumed her.

“I visited her often while she was ill. Every chance I got. I read to her and held her hands and watched her sleep. I wanted to do more, but I couldn’t, of course. There was nothing more to do but try to keep her happy.

“One day, Sanja told me she wanted to marry me. She said it had been a mistake, telling me no. We agreed to be wed as soon as she got better. I promised that I’d take her all over the world and let her see all of the things she wanted to. I told her we’d visit every city in Astatia, and then we’d travel beyond the borders and see people and places that no one had ever seen before.”

“And what happened?” I said.

“She died that spring. The orchards were in bloom. We were watching the flower petals waving in the breeze from her window. She said she loved me and closed her eyes, and they never opened again.”

“That’s awful,” I said. “It’s so sad.”

He raised his gaze from the ground and I saw that his eye glistened with moisture. “No, not horrible. For a season, I loved Sanja, and she loved me back. And I still love her. Sometimes I catch a whiff of perfume on the breeze and I know she’s here, looking over me. Sometimes I can feel her, watching me from the next world, waiting for me to come to her.

“You see, that’s what love is,” he said. “It’s not about what we sacrifice. It’s not about giving things up. It’s not about things at all. The material things around us seem fleeting but they are not. They are here every day, always. Travel, Adventure. I can still do that even today, if I wanted to, but it doesn’t matter to me now because I’ve lost the person I wanted to do those things with.

“We’re not in danger of losing the world, Breeze. It remains forever. But love… now that is something that is truly fleeting. That is something to treasure. Believe me, I’ve spent my entire life in love with a woman I never married, but I wouldn’t give up that one season with her for anything. It doesn’t matter that she was sick or that I was worried and helpless watching her die. All that matters is that we were together for that brief time.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I’d never seen this side of the general before. I couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him, how that experience had affected his entire life. Suddenly I understood him in a profound new way. I understood why he didn’t live in a city where he might have a social life and find a woman to be with him. He didn’t want that. He was done with this world and ready to move on to the next, to fill the emptiness that he’d had inside of him for his entire life. It was tragic and tragically romantic all at once, and I felt tears stinging my eyes as I thought about it.

I had never thought of my relationships in that way before. I considered Robie, sleeping soundly back in Corsan’s home without a clue as to what we were discussing. Robie had always been there, had always been a part of my life even as I outgrew him and became a woman while he remained a child. All through his youth, he’d been infatuated with me. From his early teens right through manhood, Robie had followed me around like a lost pup. Even now, no matter where I went, it seemed that Robie was always there.

For the first time, I wondered what life would be like if he wasn’t there. What if he suddenly fell ill and died like Sanja? How would I feel then? I was surprised at the stirring of emotion I felt when I asked myself that question.

Corsan snuffed out his cigar and rose from the stump. He leaned backwards, moaning as his back popped loudly. “I’m too old for nights like this,” he muttered. “I’m going to bed.”

I silently watched him amble back towards the cabin. Halfway there, a distant rumble in the sky caught his attention. He turned, staring to the south.

“Thunder?” I said.

“That wasn’t thunder. There’s not a cloud in the sky.”

I walked around the corner of the barn to stand with him. To the south, I saw a black cloud rising from the plains and I saw a flash of light. A few seconds later, heard another loud crack. “That’s cannon fire,” Corsan said. “Or something like it.”

My jaw dropped. “It can’t be,” I said. “The Vangars?”

Corsan spit on the ground. “Get that wagon fired up,” he said. “I’ll wake Robie and gather some supplies. We can’t stay here.”

He spun around and jogged awkwardly back towards the cabin. I watched the southern horizon, hardly believing what I was seeing. How was it possible? Had the Vangars already defeated Anora and then moved past? Why would they do that? There was nothing of value in the Borderlands, just a few scattered farms.

“Move it!” Corsan shouted from the cabin. I jumped.

A few minutes later, I had the fire blazing in the boiler and two more buckets of water loaded into the tank. Robie and the general came out of the house carrying bags of wheat flour, sugar, and salt. They tossed them into the wagon and went back for more. Seeing this, it occurred to me that we’d need more than food. I ran into the barn and loaded up Corsan’s old wooden toolbox with everything I could fit. I grabbed some spare parts for the wagon and tossed them in back, alongside the tools and the bags of food.

In the meanwhile, the general scrounged up two blunderbusses, a five-shot revolver, and one good rifle. I was impressed. Quality rifles are difficult to make and extraordinarily expensive. They are highly valued because of their accuracy and firepower. Any fool can make a blunderbuss but only a master can make a rifle. The general must have spent a fortune on that weapon. I didn’t have time to comment on it though, or examine it any closer. As we loaded the wagon, we heard several more explosions, each successively closer than the last.

“At this rate, they’ll be on top of us in less than an hour,” Corsan said. “We’d best get moving.”

As the general spoke, I heard a distant buzzing that I almost mistook for an insect. Then, as the noise grew louder, I turned to locate the source of the sound. In the distance, I saw some sort of flying machine zipping across the sky. A trail of black smoke blossomed out in its wake. “That’s strange,” I murmured.

The general followed my gaze, squinting with his good eye. “What is that thing? I can hardly see it.”

“It’s not a plane,” I said. “Not one of ours, but it’s definitely a machine.”

The general’s face fell. “It’s one of them,” he said in a disgusted voice. “It’s a scout. The moment he sees this farm, he’ll report back to the ship. They’ll be all over us like flies on-”

He bit off the curse, turning back to face the cabin and shouted, “Robie! Move, now!”

I hardly had time to digest what was happening before we were off, bouncing across the plains as fast as that old steamwagon could carry us. I kept a wary eye on the pressure gauge, knowing that a weak pipe could spell disaster for us all. I used my
sight
to keep track of the wagon and the engine to the best of my ability, reaching out with my mind to sense the tension and weaknesses, but I was out of practice and the rickety old machine was a disaster waiting to happen. The old metal frame was rusted and weak in several spots, and the wood was cracked and rotting everywhere. After my minor repairs, the engine was probably the soundest part of the entire vehicle, and that wasn’t saying much.

General Corsan guided the old rig towards the mountains as fast as it would go. I sat behind him, monitoring the engine and keeping a wary eye on the Vangars as they approached from the south. It wasn’t long before I could make out shapes here and there of the ferocious warriors riding on some sort of steeds. Their horses were larger than any I’d ever seen before. These creatures were massive, their bodies rippling with muscles. They had broad, hairy hooves the size of a man’s head that hit the ground like thunderclaps.

The horsemen were racing at full tilt across the plains. Behind them, I saw the shape of a dragon ship mounted on wheels rolling across the plains. It moved with surprising speed. Though the vessel had full sails, I could tell that it was driven by more than just the wind. The cloud of thick black smoke that rose behind it was not the work of nature. Whatever technology the Vangars had harnessed, they had found a way of using it to power wheels just as it did a propeller. Their technology was surprisingly powerful, if it could move a ship like that.

I did my best to describe all of this to Robie and Corsan because their human eyes couldn’t discern the shapes yet. I was staring into the distance, trying to relay what I had seen when two Vangar horsemen appeared out of the darkness just ahead of us. The general let out a shout as he adjusted the steering to swerve around them. The steamwagon groaned against the sudden change of direction. The two inside wheels lifted off the ground, and I thought we were going to roll. The chassis made an awful creaking sound, and bits of the floorboards wrenched off, scattering across the plains behind us.

Then, with a crash, the wheels settled back down. The end of the bench seat snapped in two and fell, dropping Robie roughly on the floorboards. He fell sideways and his arm punched through the floor. I bent forward and caught him by the belt, struggling to pull him upright.

The Vangars’ mounts danced back as we glided between them. Apparently, they were as shocked by our sudden appearance as we were by theirs. As we passed by, one of the warriors let out a shout and raised a massive spear. He let it fly and it whizzed by us, embedding firmly in the ground off to our right.

Corsan made a beeline for the hills and the Vangars spurred their mounts in pursuit, shouting at us in their coarse foreign tongue. The space between us grew. For a few moments, it looked like we might outrun them. Then a second spear came hurtling out of the darkness, and embedded into the boiler with a loud ringing sound. I heard the crash of metal and the instant, unmistakable hiss of escaping steam. Immediately, the steamwagon began to lose power. Our lead on the Vangars evaporated. Within seconds, they were upon us.

Chapter 9

We were coasting at high speed as the Vangars came up behind us, but the damaged steam engine was doing little to maintain our speed. I managed to help Robie get upright, and I turned to reach for Corsan’s revolver. Robie was one step ahead of me. He already had it. He raised the weapon, training the iron sights on our closest pursuer, and pulled the trigger. The hammer clicked quietly. Robie frowned, examining the firearm.

“It’s not loaded!” Corsan shouted. “None of ‘em are.”

I bent over, frantically rooting through the supplies in the back of the wagon. “The wooden box!” Corsan shouted over his shoulder. “The ammo kit is a wooden box!”

I rifled through the canvas bags, tossing things aside left and right until my hands finally closed on the wooden box near the front of the wagon’s bed. A triumphant cry escaped my lips. I lifted the box up onto my knees and flipped open the lid, revealing an impressive collection of lead balls, wadding papers, and black powder charges.

Robie handed me the revolver and drew the heavy broadsword he had stolen from the Vangars. He rose to stand awkwardly on the seat. I heard hooves thundering behind us and turned to see the first Vangar warrior bearing down on us. He was the youngest I’d seen yet, probably in his late teens. He had long dark hair and a short growth of beard on his chin. In his eyes, I saw the same crazed wildness that I had recognized in the others. A narrow smile turned up the corners of his lips. I’ll never forget that look.

This was the first time I think that I realized the Vangars were not like us. They lust for combat, for the ring of steel and the gush of spilled blood. It is bred and trained into them, like feral dogs that live only to dominate. They do not care who they kill. Man, woman, or child, each victim is the same to them. In their belief system, every life they take is a soul that they collect, and that makes them more powerful as warriors. I didn’t know all of this at the time, but looking in that boy’s eyes, I somehow understood it all the same.

The Vangar raised a short-handled axe with a heavy blade and a spike on the back. He let out a war cry and swung it at me furiously. I flinched, dodging aside. Robie’s sword lashed out to meet the axe, deflecting it away from me. The blade hammered into the steam engine, knocking the pressure gauge off and busting several pipes. New fountains of steam came spurting out.

The Vangar’s mount shied away, giving us a moment to recover. Frantically, I rammed a powder charge into the first cylinder of the revolver. I followed up with a lead ball and a wad of paper to hold it in place, and then moved on to the next chamber. As I worked, the wagon came to a slow roll. In my peripheral vision, I saw the general reaching for his good rifle. Like the rest of the weapons, it was unloaded. He handed it to me just as I loaded the last chamber. I rammed the cylinder back in place and handed it off to him, taking the rifle in my other hand.

At the same time, the younger Vangar came in for another attack. Robie stepped over me to challenge him. I started loading the rifle as the general raised the revolver and fired. He had to aim wide in order to miss Robie. Because of that, the first round struck the Vangar in the shoulder. A shriek escaped his lips as the searing hot lead ball embedded itself in his shoulder. He dropped the axe and twisted away, reaching for the pain.

The Vangar warrior had never experienced a weapon like this before. His hand covered the wound, and his eyes were wide with shock. His gaze swept back and forth between Corsan and the revolver. I could see fear overtaking him. I think the Vangar might have turned his mount and fled if he’d had the chance, but Robie took advantage of the distraction to lunge forward with his broadsword. In one swift movement, he ran the Vangar warrior clean through.