Steamsworn (Steamborn Series Book 3) (38 page)

Jacob thought the crowds might thin somewhat in the burial hall, but he was wrong. The crowds of wounded, screaming, terrified people seemed to grow closer, stealing the very air from his lungs. Alice dragged him forward when his pace slowed, until one of the tunnels on the left showed a light in the distance. She darted into the passageway, her hand wrapped firmly in Jacob’s.

Shouts echoed in the passageway behind them. Jacob glanced back and saw the line beginning to drift past the hall, toward the lake. Jacob and Alice rounded the corner into a surprisingly large room, fitted with a few small cots. Most of the wounded were on the floor, and Jacob grimaced at the small pile of dead stacked unceremoniously in the corner.

“Samuel …” Alice’s voice drew Jacob’s gaze to the floor not far away.

A blanket covered the Spider Knight’s left arm, forming a makeshift bandage, but the blood soaking through told the worst of the story. Samuel’s eyes flashed open and he sat up before his face crumbled in agony. After a few deep breaths, he looked up at Alice and then Jacob.

“What are you two doing here? There’s still a battle going on.”

Jacob shook his head. “We collapsed the station. We don’t … we don’t know what’s going on out there now.”

Alice crouched down and put her hands on Samuel’s ankle. “We’re taking the survivors out through Parliament.”

Samuel nodded. “My left arm’s useless, but I can walk. I’ll help clear out the hospital.”

“There are more coming,” Alice said.

Samuel sighed. “I’ll wait with them. Have you seen Bessie?”

Alice nodded quickly. “She’s hanging out on the ceiling.”

Samuel smiled and blew a quick puff of air out through his nose. “Crazy girl. Here …” He handed Alice a pouch with white powder inside. “She has a leg wound, and that saddle’s cutting into her other legs. Pat the wounds down with this. It’ll stop the bleeding. The nurse here used it on my arm.”

A short brunette nurse nodded. “I did at that. Kept saying he had to save it for his spider. Damned fool knight.”

“No arguments here,” Alice said.

The nurse smiled. “You two go with the others. I see they’re moving.”

“Go,” Samuel said. “We’ll catch up.” He raised his right fist and Jacob wrapped his fingers over it. Alice did the same. “Now go.”

They scooted back toward the burial hall as fast as they could.

Alice glanced toward the front room where they’d stood with Smith and the others. “There’s no way we’re getting back to Bessie through this.”

“Don’t need to,” Jacob said. He slid the Spider Knight Whistle out of a pants pocket as they started down the hall. Jacob played Bessie’s song, and several of the people around them gave him a nasty look at the sudden explosion of sound.

Alice glanced at the ceiling. “She’ll fit, but it’s going to be tight for a while.”

“We’ll be to the lake soon enough,” Jacob said. “She’ll have room there.” He glanced back toward the opposite end of the hall when someone shouted. He couldn’t see anything, but he was hopeful that meant Bessie was on her way.

The spider caught up to them a few minutes later, following along the ceiling. She reached down with her forelegs and pulled at Alice’s hair. Alice patted the spider’s foot and smiled. Bessie kept pace with them the rest of the way, until they finally entered the deep chamber with the underground lake.

Bessie skittered onto the wall and stayed beside Alice until they reached the other end of the room. Jacob patted his thigh, and the spider jumped down to a small clearing.

Alice pulled open the little leather pouch filled with white powder. “Where’s the old man?”

Jacob looked around. “I don’t know. Let’s get Bessie patched up and get out of this place. They’re still fighting on the surface.”

Alice took a handful and treated a split in one of Bessie’s legs. “Looks like a spear or something.” She hissed out a breath. “Looks bad, but the bleeding’s stopping.”

Jacob treated the wounds where the saddle had cut into the spider’s legs.

“What are you kids doing with that spider? We need to get out of here!”

“We’re done,” Jacob said, unable to find the source of the voice. “This spider is one of our friends. Her knight helped save you today. Don’t forget that.”

“Bessie,” Alice said. “Wait here for Samuel.”

Jacob didn’t know if the spider really understood what Alice was saying, but Bessie bounced up and down a few times and then sprang up onto the wall. Jacob unhooked the lantern from his vest and started into the dimly lit path up ahead. It narrowed enough that only three smaller people could stand shoulder to shoulder.

He glanced at Alice. “It’s going to take forever to get these people back to the courtyard.”

Alice leaned closer. “Then we better get started.”

Jacob stopped in front of the broken grate and stared down at the bloodied floor inside. He kicked the bars out of the wall, and they fell to the stone below in a ringing clatter of iron and rock.

J
acob stared into
the lock on the heavy door and sighed. This was their only option since Smith had barricaded their previous exit. “I’m no good at picking a lock this complex, Alice. Anyone else?”

The room was filled with people, and more were climbing in through the broken window by the minute.

“Break it down,” Alice said.

“What?”

She gestured to his leg.

Jacob frowned, shrugged, and pulled the cuff of his pants up high enough to reach the levers. He pulled one up until it clicked and fell to the opposite side before doing the same with the lever by his built-in tourniquet.

A shaky voice said, “You’re a Mech? He’s a Mech!”

Jacob glanced back. It was younger woman, not much older than Alice. She backed away from him, clawing past men and women alike as a round of shouts began to grow. Jacob looked back down at his leg and sighed.

“Yes, I’m an Ancoran, I’m a Biomech, and I’m fighting to save this city.”

Alice backed away from the door, and Jacob stepped into his kick. The door didn’t give by very much, but the frame cracked. More mutters went up behind him, but he blocked them out, focused, and slammed his foot into the iron handle.

The bowed metal collapsed, and the ironwood frame shattered, letting the door fly open to slam against the stone wall behind it.

“Stairs?” Alice asked, sticking her head through the doorway.

Jacob stepped through and looked up. “Spiral stairs, like the watchtower we used before.”

“If it’s a watchtower, it’s a way out,” Alice said.

Jacob nodded and turned to the group. “Be ready for anything. Keep your weapons up if you still have them.”

Someone muttered something about shooting the Mech. Jacob planned to ignore it, but Alice … Alice stepped into the small room and punched someone hard enough to put them on the floor.

“There’s half a dozen Biomechs fighting for you,” Alice spat, leaning over a bloodied man lying on the stones. “You threaten my friends again, and I won’t have the safety engaged.” She tugged on her heavy nail glove and stormed up the stairs.

Jacob followed, glancing between the shocked look on the man’s face, and Alice’s backside. Someone helped the man up, and the group surged around him, following Jacob and Alice up the stairs.

“You could have killed him,” Jacob said as he hurried up a few steps to catch Alice.

She didn’t respond.

Jacob shook his head. The footsteps of dozens of people echoed around them in the stone stairwell. Hushed voices and thinly veiled accusations joined the echoes. Jacob tuned it out. They were alive, and they were moving.

“You know they’ll talk,” Alice said. “Everyone’s going to know about you.”

“It’s just a leg, Alice.” He reached up and awkwardly squeezed her shoulder. “It’s just a leg.”

She turned her head and gave him a small smile. The lantern light cast her eyes into a half shadow that made them seem infinite. The light changed, and the illusion left as quickly as it had appeared.

They continued up the stairs in silence until they reached a landing set with an iron-barred door. Alice tried the handle.

She glanced at Jacob. “It’s unlocked.”

He took a deep breath. “Let’s see what we can.” He pulled the air cannon off his back and racked the cold brass slide. Jacob turned to the staircase behind them and said, “Be ready. We don’t know what’s waiting.”

Alice pushed the door open, and they swarmed into the moonlit courtyard.

“Oh gods,” Alice said, her voice cracking.

The center of the courtyard lay filled with the dead. There were Lowland refugees and Highland nobles alike. They’d fought, and died, together. To the north, beside the Castle, a small group of armed citizens gathered, yet another mixture of Lowlands and Highlands wielding everything from walking sticks to gilded crossbows. Far to the east, almost to the opposite wall, a cadre of knights and mercenaries formed ranks.

Jacob watched in awe and horror as that mass of silver and bronze began marching toward them. It wouldn’t be another minute before they were in range of the crossbows and small arms.

Someone fired from the enemy line, and a bolt landed not five feet from them. Jacob raised the air cannon. The boom drowned out the shouts of the people around him, and one of the mercenaries stumbled to the side.

A metallic voice sounded behind them. “Fire.”

Jacob turned to see a Porcupine cresting the wall—becoming a hellish fireball as its mortars roared to life. The mercenaries finally understood. Some tried to run. Some screamed, and some fell to their knees. The whistling of the mortars cut off on impact.

Mushrooms of flame and earth and stone erupted into the air. Soldiers died in the span of a heartbeat. The far watchtower began to crumble. By the time the second wave of mortars hit, the battle was already over.

Disbelief warred with joy and relief and rage inside Jacob’s chest. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he saw the same on Alice’s face. Alice. She was still here. He was still here. Jacob raised the air cannon to the heavens and screamed.

Alice’s shouts joined his own, and the cries spread down their line. The Butcher was dead, and Ancora’s people still lived. And there, in that ruin of flesh and stone and fire, they were one people.

*     *     *

Jacob watched the
Porcupine circle and finally descend into the courtyard. It hovered, not twenty feet off the ground, when a large section of the steel hull hissed and lowered between two of the front cannons. Soldiers garbed in armor with a midnight blue sheen marched out of the light of the airship’s hold, and almost vanished in the darkness of the courtyard.

They lined up, row after row, forming ranks that passed the front gates of the Castle. A few squads peeled away and disappeared into the streets and towers of Ancora. Jacob stepped closer when a lone figure appeared at the top of the ramp.

“Is that …” Alice’s hand reached out and squeezed Jacob’s briefly.

“I think so. Come on.” He walked at the line of soldiers until the nearest raised his hand.

“Halt!”

“Archibald,” Jacob said.

The Speaker of Bollwerk wore a flowing royal-blue cape as he descended from the warship. He was imposing, awe inspiring, and a total stranger. Every bootfall sent a ringing echo across the courtyard before the smoldering ruin of the watchtower. The lines of soldiers who answered to the Speaker of Bollwerk lent a feeling of true power to his presence.

“It’s like it’s not even him,” Jacob whispered.

“Power is an illusion.”

Jacob jerked in surprise. When he turned around, Drakkar was smiling at him.

The Cave Guardian kept his voice quiet. “No person is much greater or lesser than any other, but those with an army command the illusion.”

Jacob stared at Drakkar. It was easy to forget that the quiet man was a scholar and a fighter.

“Stand down, Captain.” Archibald’s voice drew the attention of all who were around him. “Jacob, Alice, Drakkar, all of you.” He motioned for the group to join him.

Someone patted Jacob’s shoulder, and he glanced back to find Mary smiling beside Smith and Cage.

The crowds huddled along the wall crept closer, and Archibald clicked a button on his collar.

“Ancorans.” Archibald’s voice boomed from the hold of the Porcupine, tinny and filled with static, but it demanded attention. “My name is Archibald Jones, and I am the Speaker of Bollwerk.”

There were shouts of absolute rage sent up by some of the older men and women in the courtyard, but others called for calm. A wave of voices circled the area, and Archibald waited for the outburst to die down before he spoke again.

“I know,” he said. “I know we have a … colorful history. There are things we must never forget from the Deadlands War, but we must set them aside if we are to survive what awaits us all. You know now your city smith was the Butcher, Newton Burns. What you may not be aware of is the fact he did not act alone.

“I say to you this: none of us will survive a combined assault from Ballern and Fel if we let old biases divide us. We have had decades of peace and prosperous trade. We have come to depend on each other for foods and goods and medicines, and we are all stronger for it.