BURKE SLID OPEN the warehouse door and lifted his lantern overhead, revealing the Angry Beetle. Lamplight glinted on its spiky shell; dust swirled in the winter draft. He ushered Thorny and Vance inside and pulled the door shut. The air inside was cool despite the cast iron stove near the entrance.
Thorny let out a whistle of appreciation as he looked over the new war machine. "You've outdone yourself," he said.
"What?" Vance asked. His hand was on Burke's shoulder for guidance. "What is it?"
"Remember Big Chief?" Burke asked.
"Of course," said Vance. "All them earth-dragons turned tail and ran the second Big Chief rolled into the square."
"Not all of them," said Burke, limping forward on his crutch. "I've got proof of that every morning when I pull on my boot. The Angry Beetle is Big Chief's successor. One day it's going to be the most powerful war machine I've ever built."
"One day?" asked Thorny, walking around the massive machine. "It looks ready for action now."
"Appearances can be deceiving," said Burke. He leaned down before the pot-bellied stove and opened the door. He shoveled in more coal. He touched the pot of chili he'd left cooking on the stove. He'd forgotten all about it during the commotion at the well. The pot still felt warm. The meal could probably be salvaged. "The Angry Beetle has some glitches that need to be worked out."
"Glitches?"
"Outright failures," Burke sighed. "The extra weight of the armor has made a joke of my gears. Currently, it can only roll backwards. I've also got space problems. I can't carry enough coal on board to keep the boiler powered up for more than a couple of hours."
"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.
Burke wiggled his way past Vance to reach the driver's seat. Burke calculated the odds of escaping and frowned. Sometimes it was a curse to be good at math. He was certain he hadn't killed Ragnar. Stonewall probably wasn't permanently blinded. Was it too late to find some reasonable way out of this? Or was he going to have to kill a lot of people?
All this time, he'd been worried about what Ragnar might do to his fellow men once he had guns and cannons. Now he was in a situation where he was going to be turning his weapons against humans, and for what? So that they might die a mile away instead of here in the warehouse?
He realized that nothing had hit the hull for at least a minute. He cracked open the sighting hatch at the forward cannon. He was facing the open doors leading to the street. The Mighty Men were now milling about outside. Ragnar and Stonewall were nowhere to be seen. Burke watched through a slit only an inch high and six inches long. It was hard to say what he might be missing. Why had they stopped trying to get in? The Mighty Men stood back as a new group came onto the scene, straining as they pushed one of the newly forged wheeled cannons into place and turned it toward the warehouse.
Burke looked at the pressure gauge. They needed more time.
People were going to have to die.
"I'm going to fire the cannon," he said, reaching into one of the many pouches on his leather tool belt. He pulled out a clump of cotton wads and leaned back in his seat, stretching out to Vance and Thorny.
"Stuff these in your ears and cover your ears with your hands. Keep them covered until I've taken my shot."
"With cotton in our ears, how will we know?" asked Thorny, as Vance helped him jam cotton into his ears.
Burke smirked. "You'll know."
He stuffed cotton into his own ears as he looked back out into the street. They were still ramming gunpowder down the shaft of the cannon. A five pound keg of black powder sat on the street. He couldn't have asked for a better target.
Burke spun the sighting wheels for the forward gun. The Angry Beetle's cannons weren't as big as the one in the street, but it would get the job done. Unlike the Mighty Men, he'd loaded his cannon in advance.
"Hands over your ears!" Burke shouted, as he pulled the flint trigger.
He squeezed his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, his jaw clenched as tightly as possible. The seconds passed with unbearable slowness.
The noise hit him in the chest like a hammer. The Angry Beetle lurched as the five pound charge in the street exploded.
Burke pulled his hands away, yanking out the cotton. His teeth felt loose.
"Everyone all right?" he asked. There was no answer. He could barely hear his own voice over the ringing. He tried again, shouting, "Vance? Thorny?"
"You're right that we'd know," said Thorny.
"I should've used more cotton," said Vance.
"Keep pumping the bellows," Burke said. "The pressure is almost in the zone."
He slid the sighting hatch open once more. The front wall of the warehouse was gone. There was a crater where the cannon had been a moment before. Unidentifiable lumps of meat were scattered in all directions. He slid the hatch shut before he had a chance to identify any of the chunks.
"Gentlemen," he said. "It's safe to say we've worn out our welcome. I'm sorry you got swept up in this."
"You apologize too much," said Thorny. "Let's roll."
"What's it look like behind us?"
Thorny pushed the rear sighting hatch open with the back of his twisted hands. He shook his head. "The doors are closed."
"I don't think that's going to matter," said Burke as he let out the clutch and engaged the gear. The Angry Beetle shuddered as it crept backward. It took a surprising length of time to cover the short distance to the rear door. Fortunately, when it finally reached the barrier, the war-machine pushed through the wood as if it were a paper curtain.
"Since we can only move in one direction, it's important we don't hit anything the Angry Beetle can't push over. I'm going to follow the southern boulevard to the city gate. Let me know if I'm getting close to any buildings."
Burke leaned over to watch out the sighting hatch as they rolled away from the warehouse. He knew the layout of Dragon Forge as well as anyone. He just might pull this off.
"We're getting close to a big building on the left," said Thorny.
Burke turned the wheel.
"No!" said Thorny. "My left!"
Burke hastily steered the other way.
"We should be coming up on a big broad avenue now," he said. "See it?"
"Yeah," said Thorny. "People are moving fast to get out of our way. A lot faster than they need to, honestly. Pokey Turtle might be a better name for this contraption."
"Duly noted," said Burke. "Keep shoveling, Vance. We need to build up more pressure if we want to get up any kind of speed."
"We're at the avenue," said Thorny.
Burke turned the wheel sharply. The treads churned beneath the Angry Beetle with a satisfying rumble. The steering mechanism worked like a dream. If he had any real power getting to the treads, this might turn into an interesting ride. He disengaged the clutch.
"We're slowing down," said Thorny.
Burke was surprised that they were still rolling at all. But, the southern avenue did slope down slightly. He'd take whatever help from gravity he could get.
"We took off before the pressure was in the zone," Burke said. "Let's give the boiler another minute. I'm worried about the southern gate. You see it?"
"Yeah," said Thorny. "We're maybe two hundred feet away."
"Can you see down the shaft of the rear cannon? Does it look like we'd hit the gate if we fired on it?"
Thorny was quiet for a moment. "I guess," he said.
Vance said, "Burke, we worked hard to get that gate closed. Forget Ragnar. Do you really want to open that gate to the dragons?"
"It's not the gate keeping the dragons out," said Burke. "It's the sky-wall bows. No winged dragon wants to fly within a mile of the walls. Thorny, I know you don't have much grip, but triggering the flintlock fuse only takes a nudge. Think you can do it?"
"I'll try," said Thorny.
"Okay then. Cotton in ears, everyone. Thorny, on the count of ten, do it."
Burke shoved cotton in his ears. Thorny's countdown went by in silence.
The Angry Beetle trembled as the cannon fired. Burke's brain felt like goom sloshing around in a jug.
He pulled the cotton from his ears. Thorny's distant voice sounded panicked. "The gate's still there!"
"Did we miss it?" Burke asked, incredulous.
"No. We punched a hole in it. The left half looks tilted back a little."
"That's the part we'll ram, then."
Burke looked back out his own sighting window. The street was mostly empty. It was good this was happening at night. Here and there, faces peeked around the corners of buildings to watch the progress of the Angry Beetle as it rolled at its leisurely pace toward the gate.
What now? The cannons could be loaded from the inside, but it was a pain. Thorny definitely couldn't manage with his hands. He looked at the barrel of gunpowder beside him. He had a small spool of gunpowder-infused cotton to cut fuses from. Getting out of the Beetle to hop up to the gate and fashion a quick bomb didn't seem wise, however.
Did the Beetle have the speed and mass necessary to push open the gate?
He peered at the gauge. The needle hovered at the bottom edge of the green zone.
"We only live once, gentlemen," he said, and engaged the clutch.
The Angry Beetle's treads rumbled beneath the floor. On the incline, they quickly reached a speed that surprised even Burke. They might well be rolling at almost fifteen miles per hour. With a horrible crunch, they crashed into the gate. The Beetle felt as if it were going to tip over as the damaged gate fell from its hinges and one tread rode up onto it while the other stayed on the ground. Seconds later, the Angry Beetle shook violently as it dropped back to level and rolled on. Stunned guards looked down from the walls as the Angry Beetle roared away from the fort. The road sloped sharply downward toward the river. Burke disengaged the gears, allowing gravity alone to propel them so that they could build up enough pressure to climb the hill on the other side of the river.
"There's a bridge ahead," said Thorny.
"I know," said Burke. "It's going to be like threading a needle to cross it."
"Can the bridge even hold us?" Vance asked nervously.
"It's stone," said Burke. "The earth-dragons moved wagons loaded with armor and weapons across it. It'll hold."
He peeked back out the rear sighting hatch. His heart sank. There were a dozen men walking along behind the Angry Beetle, all bearing shotguns. They were spread out so that the rear cannon would never hit all of them. If they followed the war machine long enough, they'd be able to peel it open once it ran out of steam.
"Uh-oh," said Thorny.
These were quite likely the worst two syllables anyone could have uttered, given the circumstance. "What?" Burke asked.
"Earth-dragons," said Thorny. "They're climbing up from under the bridge. I guess they've heard the racket we're making. There might be fifty of them."
Burke barely had time to contemplate this news before a shotgun blast rang out. Then another, then another. No balls clanged off the Angry Beetle's armor. How could they possibly miss?
"That's about five fewer earth-dragons," said Thorny.
As the angry war-cries of earth-dragons at full charge filled the air, a faint hope suddenly sparked within Burke's chest. Sometimes, two problems were better than one. In the best case scenario, the men and the dragons would fight one another and ignore the Angry Beetle.
In the worst case scenario, the dragons would kill the men, capture their guns and the Beetle, and suddenly have over a dozen shotguns, two cannons, and a barrel of gunpowder for the biologians to reverse engineer.
The Angry Beetle lurched as Burke contemplated their situation.
"We just ran over a fallen dragon," said Thorny.
Shotgun blasts continued to ring out.
"The humans have to win this battle," said Burke, grabbing the shotgun. "Even if Ragnar's men kill us, we can't let the dragons get their hands on the gunpowder."
"Burke," said Thorny. "You might want to concentrate on steering. We're only fifty feet from that bridge."
Burke handed the gun to Vance. "Open the rear gun slit. Fire at will."
"I don't know if my eyes are good enough for me to target anything," said Vance.
"Let's find out," said Burke.
Vance nodded. He moved swiftly to slide the small hatches open. Burke craned his head over his shoulder, trying to see as much as possible through the tiny holes. He could see the edges of the bridge. It looked like he was on track. There were a half-dozen earth-dragons on the bridge. Vance fired the shotgun.
When the smoke cleared, most of the earth-dragons were running. There was now a huge shadow on the bridge. What was it? Burke squinted, trying to make sense. It was moving…
With a start, he realized that the biggest earth-dragon he'd ever seen was charging straight toward the Angry Beetle. He brandished a war-hammer that no human could ever lift. His jagged beak was open in a war cry louder than the rumbling treads on the stonework of the bridge.
With a horrifying grunt, the huge dragon swung his hammer. Burke's end of the Angry Beetle suddenly shot into the air. Shrill whistles rang out as jets of steam shot from the seams of the boiler. With a gut-wrenching chewing sound, Burke heard the left tread seize up.
"Reload," Burke shouted.
The Angry Beetle jumped as the war-hammer once more slammed into its leading edge. One of the exterior spikes suddenly punched down into the belly of the war machine, missing the back of Thorny's head by a fraction of an inch. Vance was thrown against the boiler.
"Aaaah!" he cried out, pulling back. The chamber suddenly smelled like burning hair. Vance's wispy beard was gone from the left side of his face, now a bright beet red.
The rear gun slot Burke had been looking through was crushed completely shut. He could barely see out one of the remaining holes. A wall of reptilian flesh rippled as the dragon lifted the hammer for another blow.
There was a rumble beneath the Angry Beetle. The dragon attacking them jumped backward. Dust shot into the air.
"Uh-oh," Thorny said again.
In a symphony of pops and cracks and groans, the bridge beneath them crumbled and they dropped twenty feet, landing sideways. The entry hatch snapped open, showing the river water rushing past only inches below. The Angry Beetle was precariously perched on the rubble of the bridge. The air was hot with steam.
Vance had his hands pressed against the roof, straining to keep from falling against the boiler again. "Y'all okay?" he asked.
"I think so," said Burke.
Thorny's voice was feeble. "I don't suppose you brought that jug of goom, did you? I could drink a gallon right about now."
"There's thirty gallons on board," said Burke, looking down at the water. He glanced over at the spool of fuse. "We're not drinking it though. It's going to be part of the explosion."
"Have we moved on to some part of the plan I was unaware of?" Thorny asked.
"There was a plan?" asked Vance.
"Get into the water," said Burke. "We can't let the dragons capture the Angry Beetle. I'm going to blow it up. Between the gunpowder and the goom, we might destroy the cannons."
Vance nodded. "Works for me." He let go of his handhold, grabbed the sky-wall bow and quiver, and dropped into the water. The boy really was fast with his hands. He popped back to the surface a second later. The water was up to his neck. He reached up. "Let me help you, Thorny."
Thorny did his best to navigate the cramped space without hitting the boiler. He didn't succeed. His face scrunched up in pain when his shin hit the hot metal, but he never made a sound of complaint. He slipped down into Vance's hands and fell into the water.
"Take my crutch," Burke said, handing it down to Vance. He pulled several feet of chord off the spool and shoved it into the top of the nearest barrel. "We'll have less than a minute to get out of here. I don't move fast these days, so I might not make it."
Thorny's head popped back into the hatch. He was shivering violently.
"T-that's why y-you should get a head start. I'll light the f-fuse."
"I got us into this," said Burke. "Both of you go on."
"Burke," said Thorny, sounding grave. "For the last f-fifteen years, I've been s-spying on you for Bazanel. If I die, I d-deserve it."
"I knew," said Burke. "It was too big a coincidence that you'd been the slave of the only dragon I'd ever thought of as a kindred spirit."
"I'll light the fuse," said Vance.
"But…"
"I'm faster than both of you. I can hold my breath underwater a long time. Now get out of there and let me blow this thing up."
Burke grabbed the fallen shotgun and slipped down into the icy water. He lost his footing almost instantly. He reached out and grabbed Thorny's arm to steady himself.
"What's h-he going to l-light it with?" Thorny asked through chattering teeth.
"There's still fire under the boiler," Vance grumbled. "Get out of here!"
It was the closest thing to anger Burke had ever heard in Vance's voice. Grabbing his crutch, he took a deep breath and dropped beneath the water. The current pulled him away. He popped back to the surface several yards downstream. The water was unbelievably cold. Each winter his father used to throw him into the river and make him swim a mile. Supposedly, it was meant to make him tougher. In practice, it left him hating swimming. It was one aspect of his childhood training he'd never had the heart to inflict on Anza. He was suddenly grateful for it.
On the bank above him he saw a flash and heard thunder. A bloodied dragon toppled down the bank, limp and lifeless.
Thorny popped to the surface beside him. His lips were dark blue.
"Keep moving," Burke said, grabbing his friend by the collar.
"If y-you knew," Thorny asked, "why d-didn't you k-kill me?"
"You were the only halfway decent chess player in town."
"Anza's b-better," said Thorny.
"Anza beats me," said Burke.
They hopped, floated, and scrambled downstream a hundred yards, seldom bringing anything more than their heads above water. In the darkness, the fallen bridge and the upended war machine were nothing but shadows. On the far bank, Burke saw movement. Vance?
The shadow he saw was too large and had a tail. The shadow brandished a large hammer and shouted incompressible words of rage at the fallen bridge. So much for the hope the brute had been crushed in the collapse.
"It's been too long," said Burke. "The fuse should have-"
The night went white. The shockwave knocked them beneath the water. Hot shards of metal rained down, sizzling as they punched into the river. Burke lost all sense of up and down as the water roughed him up. Finally, he surfaced. Thorny popped up too, gasping. Burke spun around, trying to get his bearings, until he spotted the pillar of bluish flame on the water where the Angry Beetle had once been. The burning goom, no doubt. Black smoke hung heavy in the air. All around, little plips sounded in the water as shrapnel continued to fall.
Burke wanted to call out Vance's name, but didn't dare. He didn't know how many men or dragons had survived. No matter who was still up on the banks, it wouldn't be long before sky-dragons swarmed the area. Their only chance was to stay quiet, stay low, and keep moving.
"Do you th-think he…?" whispered Thorny.
"Shh," said Burke. "Keep moving. He'll find us."
As the minutes dragged on, Vance didn't find them. Burke helped Thorny crawl from the water after a mile had passed. They were both freezing, drenched to the bone. Their only hope was to keep moving. They raced not only against the sky-dragons who no doubt searched the area, but against hypothermia and frost-bite as well.
They limped along with Burke's arm wrapped around Thorny's shoulder for balance. Burke had the shotgun and his crutch pressed against his chest with his free arm. Any time Thorny slowed, Burke pushed him on, ever eastward. Stopping even a minute to catch their breath could prove fatal.
They'd traveled a few miles when Burke smelled smoke. At first, he thought it might be his imagination, until Thorny whispered hoarsely, "S-smells like a f-fire."
They limped on, rounding a bend in the river. Like some dream, a windowless log cabin sat high up on the bank, with smoke curling from the stone chimney. Burke hobbled toward it, not caring who might be inside. The cabin was tiny, barely ten feet by five. He let his crutch drop from his numb hands as he fell against the door.
The door opened. Vance looked down on them. His hair was sopping wet. He was wrapped in a thick wool blanket. The redness of his burned cheek had faded. Behind him, a fire roared.
"This place used to belong to my uncle Jig," Vance said. "He's back at Dragon Forge. He won't mind us passing the night."
"How did you…"
Vance shrugged. "I must have passed y'all in the darkness. Get inside before you let the heat out. We need to put out the fire before dawn. Don't want the dragons seeing the smoke."
Thorny stumbled into the cabin. He fell before the fireplace, rolling toward it, until he was practically in it. Steam rose from his clothes.
"Don't cook yourself," said Burke, dropping to the floor next to him.
Vance shut the door.
Burke closed his eyes and instantly plunged into sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: