Dragonseed (28 page)

“That’s not so bad,” said Thorny. “You could roll out a wall of these things a mile or so at a time. Wipe out anything in your way. Wagons could roll along afterward to refuel.”

“Maybe,” said Burke. “It’s not an elegant solution, but we need some way of pushing our force outward. Long term, the dragons can beat us with this blockade if we can’t develop a way to take the battle to them. They can treat our rebellion like a brush fire—clear the area around it, deny it fuel, and eventually it will burn itself out. That’s our fate, unless I can think of something clever and think of it fast.”

“I saw the shotgun in action,” said Thorny. “That’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s only a toy compared to the cannons. I’ve got small cannons on the Beetle that can hurl a lead ball a mile or two. I’ve got big cannons rolling off the lines that shoot even further. I’ve spent decades imagining what I could do to dragons if I could learn how to make gunpowder.” Burke reached out and placed a hand on the barrel of the rear facing cannon of the Angry Beetle. He shook his head. “Now I’m wondering if my dream isn’t going to become a nightmare.”

“How so?”

“You saw what Ragnar did to Shanna. When he built this army, he marched from town to town shouting, ‘join or die!’ I’ve heard what happened to some of the men who refused to cooperate. Right now, I’m able to temper his brute force approach by constantly dangling the promise of more powerful weapons in front of him. But there’s going to be a point where he thinks he’s got enough. I’m not so much worried about what he’ll do to the dragons as to what he’ll do to the men who don’t blindly obey him.”

Vance was moving around the perimeter of the Angry Beetle, feeling his way from spike to spike. Burke started to warn the boy to be careful but held his tongue. It was important to let Vance feel independent despite his blindness. For someone who said he couldn’t see anything, Vance certainly was moving around the edge of the machine quickly enough.

“What’s that weird smell?” said Vance from the other side of the Angry Beetle.

“It was supposed to be my dinner.” Burke lifted the lid of the iron pot on the stove and stirred the contents. The air filled with a pungent, spicy aroma, along with the scent of charred meat. The contents were sticking to the bottom of the pot.

“Oh lord,” said Thorny. “Not your chili!”

“Chili sounds good,” said Vance.

“Burke’s cooking isn’t for the faint of heart. His chili has killed more people than his guns ever will.”

Burke chuckled as he used a ladle to scoop out a large glop of stringy meat into a wooden bowl. He handed it to Vance, who reached out and took it in a confident manner that made Burke wonder again if perhaps the boy could see more than he let on. “Don’t listen to Thorny. I still say most of those deaths were just coincidence. Besides, this is a new recipe. I’m currently limited by the items in the earth-dragons larders. They had some hot sausages I’ve chopped up and added to this.”

The wooden spoon stopped inches from Vance’s lips. He said, “I’ve, um, heard there were human bodies in the larder. You didn’t… um…”

“Any human remains were turned over to Ragnar for proper burial. The man has his faults, but he’s not a cannibal. I hope.”

Vance started to put the spoon in his mouth, then pulled it away again. “I also heard there were jars of pickled earth-dragon babies.”

“Yeah. Some folks have been sampling them. I’ve not been that hungry yet.”

Vance looked relieved and popped the spoon in his mouth.

“Especially not with so much fresh meat from the adults lying around,” Burke continued. “We had to cremate most of the bodies as a hedge against disease. But, we cut off the tails and have been curing them in the smoke house. Earth-dragon tails taste like gator. We used to eat those all the time down south.”

Vance chewed slowly, looking as if he might spit the chili out. Suddenly, his eyes bulged. He swallowed quickly.

“Oh my gosh!” he said, waving his fingers in front of his mouth. “My mouth is on fire!”

Burke reached down beside the stove and picked up a clay jug. “Take a swig of this.”

Vance lifted the jug, swallowed, and then quickly pulled it away from his lips. His face was all puckered for about half a minute before he could speak again.

“Have I done something to make you angry?” Vance asked weakly.

“Nope. That’s goom,” said Burke. “We’ve got about 900 gallons of it. The earth-dragons distill it from cabbage and chilies. Fortunately, it’s so alcoholic that a few swigs numbs your mouth. Can you still feel your tongue?”

Vance’s tongue flickered across his lips. “Nothing. Guess it works.”

“Don’t burp around any open flames,” Burke said. “Goom ignites easily. It’s the fuel for the Angry Beetle’s flamethrower.”

Vance took another bite of chili. Sweat beaded his brow as he chewed the stringy meat.

“If you survive this meal, you’ll have a good story for your grandkids,” said Thorny with a chuckle. Thorny then turned his attention back to the Angry Beetle.

“How many people does it take to run this thing?” he asked.

“A perfect crew would be four,” said Burke, lifting the hatch. “But, it’s a tight fit with two people, and three people need to be real friendly. If there were more women around, I’d recruit them for crew.”

Thorny peeked inside the open hatch. “They’d need to be skinny.”

Burke shrugged. “At least I don’t need to worry about Ragnar’s Mighty Men commandeering this. I don’t think Stonewall could squeeze through the hatch.”

As he said this, a chill winter wind swept across the room. The sliding door to the warehouse shuddered on its tracks. Burke looked up and found Stonewall standing in the doorway, glaring at him. To his left stood Ragnar, with his twin scimitars held loosely in his hands; a half dozen armored Mighty Men lurked behind him. To Stonewall’s right stood Frost, grinning like it was his birthday.

“Burke,” said Ragnar, in a voice that was oddly calm and controlled. “We should discuss what happened at the well.”

Burke crossed his arms as he leaned back against the Angry Beetle.

“I agree,” said Burke. “That was quite a show. I’m still trying to make up my mind as to precisely what it was that happened. How did Shanna get through the blockade? How did she get to the well if your men didn’t let her in? Shanna’s been a spy for years. She’s a good actor. And, the more I think about it, if you faked her death, tossing her into the well was a good way of keeping anyone from seeing her get up and walk away once the performance was done. What I haven’t figured out yet is, what are you up to? What are you trying to prove?”

“You have lived a life of lies so long you cannot see the truth,” said Ragnar. “I would never deceive my followers with base theatrics.”

“If it wasn’t staged, that’s even worse. Shanna helped us win Dragon Forge. You killed her like she was a dog.”

“A mad dog,” said Ragnar, still calm. “It was clear from her words that she’d been corrupted by the worship of a false god.”

“Or hallucinating from those dragonseeds, whatever they are. You should have jailed her and let her sober up. We’ll never know what really happened to her now.”

“You’re quick to criticize my decisions,” said Ragnar. “Your open defiance in front of the crowd was intolerable.”

“You’ll have to tolerate my criticism a bit longer,” said Burke. “You need me if you’re ever going to break the blockade and spread this rebellion further.”

“Do I?” asked Ragnar. “The Lord has given me an army. We now have the sky-wall bows. We have shotguns and cannons. I believe your usefulness draws to an end.”

“Without gunpowder, all you have are a bunch of iron tubes,” said Burke, crossing his arms. “I’m the only one who knows the formula.”

Ragnar smiled, an expression that made Burke’s blood turn cold.

Frost said, “I noticed that Biscuit was capable of mixing up gunpowder while you were recovering from your surgery.”

Burke’s jaw tightened. “Biscuit’s a good man, but he’s no chemist,” he said, carefully controlling his tone.

Frost held up a scrap of paper that Burke instantly recognized. It was the formula for gunpowder. “I spoke to Biscuit earlier today. He found my arguments… persuasive. He has reaffirmed his loyalty to the cause.”

Burke clenched his jaw. He looked away from Ragnar and his Mighty Men, shoved his iron crutch back into his armpit, and hobbled to the stove. “So what now?”

“Now we assemble the men at dawn,” said Frost. “You repent your sins and swear your obedience to the Lord and his prophet. Or we behead you in front of the crowd as a reminder that no single man is greater than the cause.”

Stonewall furrowed his brow at the mention of the beheading.

Frost grinned like this was the happiest moment of his life.

Burke picked up a tin cup sitting at the edge of the stove. He poured himself a cup of goom.

Ragnar and his Mighty Men were ten feet away. The Angry Beetle was close enough to touch. He contemplated his choices. He could avoid violence just by standing in front of the crowd, saying a few words he didn’t believe, and then going back to work.

He shook his head. “If you’re planning to kill me, I’d rather not wait for dawn.”

It was Stonewall, not Frost, who stepped forward. His big beefy hands reached for Burke’s shoulders, as he said, “Sir, if you’ll come with us, I promise to—”

Burke flung the goom into Stonewall’s face.

The tall man staggered backwards, hissing in pain. Goom in the mouth was bad enough; Goom in the eyes was crippling. Frost tried to get out of the way of the stumbling giant, but crashed into the Mighty Man behind him. Stonewall tripped over Frost, and as he fell he toppled the rest of Ragnar’s thugs.

Ragnar, however, had been spared from the flailing of his henchmen. Burke was getting tired of the seemingly divine hand that spared the prophet from misfortune. Ragnar brandished his scimitars and leapt toward Burke with a growl, apparently agreeing that dawn was too long to wait for Burke’s beheading.

Burke grabbed the iron handle of the chili pot and swung it with a grunt. The cast iron connected solidly with the side of the prophet’s shaggy head. The force of the blow knocked the scimitars from Ragnar’s grasp. Hot, thick chili splashed down Ragnar’s bare body, matting his chest hair. The prophet’s eyes grew large. A very unholy word formed on his lips.

Burke didn’t wait to hear it. With the heavy pot still in his hands, he swung upward, catching the big man under his hairy chin, knocking him from his feet.

“Get in the Beetle!” Burke screamed.

Thorny was already two steps ahead of him. His scrawny legs disappeared into the shadowy interior of the war machine. Burke turned to grab Vance by the wrist, but Vance, too, was already moving, diving into the interior. For a third time since they’d come to the warehouse, Burke suspected the boy could see more than he let on. But, why would Vance lie about such a thing?

Burke threw his crutch in and rolled into the Beetle, hitting the catch that held the metal hatch open. He pulled his leg in as the hatch slammed shut. Seconds later, loud bangs shook the Beetle as the Mighty Men who’d regained their footing began to hack the war machine with their swords.

Burke sat up, grabbing Vance by the wrist. “You’re going to have to shovel coal,” he said. “Let me put your hand on the—”

“I can see,” said Vance.

“What?”

“I can see! My sight’s not fully back yet, but it’s getting there. I only see blurry colors out past a few yards, but up close I see pretty good.”

“So… you’ve been faking?” Burke asked.

“No! My sight’s just started coming back in the last little bit.”

Thorny scratched his scraggly beard. “I’ve heard of men going blind after they drink goom. Maybe it works the other way around, too.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s because of the dragonseed,” said Vance.

“What?” asked Burke.

“I swallowed it five minutes after you gave it to me. What did I have to lose?”

“Your life, if it had been poison. Your mind, if it had been a hallucinogen.” Burke frowned. “How do you know you can really see? Maybe you’re just imagining it.”

Vance reached out and put his finger on the tip of Burke’s nose.

“The dragonseed worked. My sight’s been getting a little better since I took it. First I could just detect light from dark, then shapes started coming back, then colors.”

Burke grimaced. He lived in a world that followed certain rules. Magic seeds were the stuff of fairy tale. They didn’t belong in a world of gears and guns. Vance had lost his sight due to a head injury. Sometimes these things got better on their own. The timing must be a coincidence.

The hull shuddered violently.

“I’m guessing they found the sledgehammer,” said Burke as the ringing in his ears abated. “Here’s the ten-second guide to running this thing. This is the boiler.” He opened the iron door next to Vance. A small red flame still flickered inside. “Shovel coal. There’s a foot operated bellows. Pump as if your life depends on it. We need a lot of heat to build up steam.”

Burke checked the gauges. There was still a little pressure left over from this morning, but nothing like what they’d need to escape.

The hull rang out again from another blow of a sledgehammer. He wondered how long it would be before one of the Mighty Men was clever enough to wheel a big cannon out of the foundry and use the Angry Beetle for target practice.

“Thorny, the Beetle can only roll backwards. I designed all the controls to sit up front. You need to look out that little hatch in the back and tell me what you see.”

“Got it,” said Thorny.

“Don’t open the hatch until we’re moving,” said Burke. “The Mighty Men might be smart enough to poke a shotgun inside.”

Burke looked around at the mention of a shotgun. He had one shotgun inside, which he’d been using to test the visual span of the various gun slots. He had plenty of shot, and two barrels of gunpowder. The Beetle also had fixed cannons at the front and back, and there was the goom-powered flamethrower, with maybe thirty gallons in the reserve. He also had a sky-wall bow and a quiver of arrows. He’d wanted to test if there was enough space to actually use a bow at one of the slots. There wasn’t.