The Dragon's Breath (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 3)

  The

  Dragon’s Breath

  By:

  Jamie Sedgwick

  Published by Timber Hill Press

  Engineer’s Log

  Day 120

  I have intervened in no less than six fistfights since our departure from New Boston. My mechanic River was involved in at least half of those, which is no small accomplishment considering she spends most of her time alone in Engineering.

  I blame the crew’s restlessness on their desire to apprehend our enemy, an ex-crewmate named Burk, but I’m certain the gloomy landscape has also played a significant role in their temperament. The glaciers and subzero temperatures of the Wastelands are far behind us now, but the snowy tundra has given way to an arid landscape of sage-dotted hills and rocky, wind-eroded beaches. It is a cold and sometimes bizarre landscape, littered with stone ruins and giant statues, weathered and decayed into surreal, sometimes grotesque caricatures, revealing only the slightest suggestion of what they may once have been. Many stand several stories high, and their smooth irregular shapes draw the eye and fire the imagination with a palpable sense of dread.

  Meanwhile, we have twice been delayed by broken rails, which according to the steamscouts’ reports, should have been in perfect condition. The most recent came up on us at high speed. If I had not seen it in time, the Iron Horse would have been derailed. I cannot say with any degree of certainty what sort of creature has been attacking the tracks, but I know that it is large. One of my crewmen located a partial print in the rocky soil that measured nearly five feet across.

  This comes as no great surprise after witnessing the increasingly bizarre genetic anomalies populating this area. Just yesterday, we saw a great worm-like creature burrowing through the earth, bursting into the air with a great spray of soil and rocks, only to disappear again almost instantly, leaving only a circle of disturbed soil in its wake. Before that, we discovered a herd of winged caribou speeding across the plains. Despite their wings, these were flightless creatures, and it is clear to me that these and other genetic mutations are the work of starfall.

  The only conclusion I can draw from the increasing frequency of such sightings is that we are fast approaching a great reservoir of the rare element. This is heartening news, because we have exhausted our stores of the fuel. I have supplemented this by burning coal, wood, and even kerosene in the train’s central burner. This has limited us to half-speed, and those supplies are nearly exhausted as well.

  With no timber to harvest in this barren land, our situation is dire. The Iron Horse cannot go back the way we came. We must burn what precious little fuel remains in the hope that it will bring us within reach of a new supply of starfall, or at the very least, a sufficient supply of timber or coal.

  I only hope I can keep my crew from killing each other before that happens.

  Chapter 1

  A burst of blinding light stunned Micah as he stepped through the Engineering door. The halfling winced, raising a hand to shield his eyes. Sparks danced across the floor, accompanied by the loud arcing sounds of electricity. The deep percussive drumming of a steam engine somewhere in the corner sent vibrations across the floorboards and up through the soles of his boots.

  River stood at the workbench in the center of the car. She wore darkened goggles, a leather apron, and thick leather gloves to protect her from the flying sparks. Micah called out to her, waving his arms to get her attention, but the crackling welder and the whine of the generator drowned out the sound of his voice. He tried to avert his eyes as he circled around to the shielded area behind the generator to wait for her to finish.

  The lightning rod, or arc welder as it was also called, was an uncommon device. The fact that it was electrical made it a rare example of high technology. A compact but powerful steam engine drove the generator, which in turn powered the welding apparatus. Primitive as the device was, the welder represented the very pinnacle of engineering. Only in Sanctuary did greater marvels exist.

  When River finally pulled the rod away from the metal, the sparks faded and the noise died down a bit. She tossed the welding probe onto the bench and stepped around to pull the large switch on the wall, cutting the flow of electricity. She then opened a pressure valve on the boiler, allowing the steam to vent out of the piping with a loud hissing noise. Clouds of vapor filled the room, and began drifting out into the passageway. The generator’s copper coil hummed as it gradually slowed.

  “Hi!” Micah said loudly. River flinched. She pulled her goggles down and turned to stare at him. He was almost hidden in the corner, grinning sheepishly up at her as she glared.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he added.

  River looked him up and down. The halfling was dressed in his usual waistcoat and tall boots, and she saw the stem of his favorite ivory pipe sticking out of his pocket. His eyes gleamed with excitement, and under his long, imp-like nose, a playful smile turned up the corners of his thin lips.

  “What are you screeching about?” she said with an unmistakable tone of irritation.

  “There’s a city up ahead.”

  River frowned. With the back of her glove, she wiped a bead of sweat from her cheek. It left a dark streak that ran down towards her chin. She stepped around the generator and leaned across a workbench to gaze through one of the side windows. It was late afternoon and the sun was shining through, but a hazy film covered the glass, blurring out the scenery. River threw open the latch, slid the window to the side, and stuck her head out.

  The roar of the Horse’s wheels gliding along the double set of railroad tracks came blaring into the room. The chilly wind brought instant tears to River’s eyes and whipped up her long blonde hair in a frenzy. The land speeding past the train was stark, barren. The terrain was flat, or rather layered like hot steel that had been poured out of a crucible and quickly cooled, forming into unnatural folds, curves, and artificial-seeming planes almost as smooth as glass. Patches of obsidian glistened in the afternoon sunlight here and there, like shimmering black lakes and rivers frozen in stone.

  Ahead of the Iron Horse, far to the south, River saw what appeared to be a tall castle flanked by two towers resting on the summit of a mountain. A wall stretched out on either side, crawling across the mountaintops to vanish in the distance. She pulled her head back inside and slammed the window shut.

  “It’s another mirage,” River said, tossing her gloves onto the bench.

  “No, it’s real this time. Socrates said so!”

  She regarded him in the way an adult might respond to a child known for telling tales. “Are you sure? This has happened before, and it always turns out to be a mirage.”

  “See for yourself,” Micah said, his grin widening. “Socrates is waiting for you.”

  River pulled off the leather apron. “I was finished here anyway.”

  Micah stepped closer to the table and saw a steel cylinder attached to some sort of metal framework. River had secured a length of flexible copper hose to one end of the tank, and a strange leather mask with clear glass lenses at the other.

  “What are you working on?”

  “It’s a portable submersible oxygenation apparatus.”

  “A what?”

  “After our trip through the Forgotten Sea, I thought it might be useful to create some sort of portable breathing system, in case we’re ever trapped underwater again.”

  “So it’s an air mask?” Micah said.

  River looked at him. “No, it’s a portable submersible oxygenation apparatus.”

  Micah scratched the stubble on his long chin. “That’s a lot to remember. Why don’t yo
u name it something simple, like Breathinator?”

  “Because that sounds ridiculous,” River said, heading for the door. “And I didn’t invent it for simpletons who can’t remember what it’s for.”

  “How about Oxygenizer?” Micah said, following her out into the hall. “Or Inhalator?”

  As they made their way through the long series of passageways to the front of the train, Micah continued spouting off ideas. River ignored him.

  She politely acknowledged the crewmembers they met along the way and kept moving. In River’s opinion, the others found it far too easy to while away the hours gambling and lounging when they could be using their time productively. She had run out of patience with pretty much all of them. She’d had to straighten out a few already, when they’d had too much to drink and forgotten how to respect her space. It was one thing to be a worthless drunk; another entirely to grope her without permission. River had spoken to Socrates about the problem on several occasions, but so far the commander had been reluctant to take any serious action against the crew. Perhaps he felt River had already punished them adequately.

  A few minutes later, River and Micah passed through the empty tender car and stepped into the cab of the locomotive. They found Socrates perched on a tall metal stool near the controls, leaning sideways with his head extended out the window. As they entered, the steam-powered gorilla pulled back inside and grinned broadly. His dark blue fur was flying straight back from his face as if the wind had frozen it that way. Between his wild hair and his disconcerting simian grin, he looked more like a rabid animal than the highly intelligent automaton he was.

  “Micah told you the good news,” Socrates said.

  River tried to suppress her grin. “It’s true, then? We’ve found civilization?”

  Socrates handed her his spyglass. River stepped out onto the platform. She blinked against the wind as she put the scope to her eye. She zeroed in on the dark shapes rising up in the distance. Black clouds hung over the horizon, making the shapes blend in with the background. A glint of light caught her attention and River twisted the spyglass, dialing in the focus. A window on one of the towers came into view. Nearby, she saw a wide balcony decorated with plants and furnishings.

  “Well?” Micah said. “Is it real or not?”

  “Of course it is,” she said. “Socrates already told you so.”

  Micah narrowed his eyebrows and made a harrumphing noise in his throat.

  “How can you be sure?” Socrates said with a clever smile.

  “Mirages don’t reflect the sky. That structure has windows made of glass.”

  “Well done. What else can you tell me?”

  She peered through the scope again.

  “There is a town below the castle. A fort, maybe. It’s in a good defensible position, with mountains on one side and low-lying plains on the other. I can’t tell how big it is, but I think I see a palace…” She lowered the scope and looked at him. “Do you think all this was built after the cataclysm?”

  “I’m quite certain. Which means this may be the most advanced civilization we have ever encountered. I expect they must be a truly remarkable people.”

  River stared at him. Socrates was fascinated by humans. He enjoyed studying their culture, their history, and especially their food. Strange as it may have sounded, the ape loved to cook. He had a collection of cookbooks, and occasionally he even helped prepare the meals for his crew. His favorite was bread. Socrates had hundreds of bread recipes: sweet breads, sourdough breads, herb-seasoned, and even spicy breads. In River’s experience, they were all excellent.

  “Is there any sign of Burk?”

  “I saw something over the horizon to the southwest. Burk’s lead on us is so great that I couldn’t be sure if it was him.”

  Burk was an ex-crewmember who had tried to stage a mutiny at the beginning of their journey, and then later sabotaged the train and almost killed the entire crew. While their primary mission was the quest for starfall, everyone on the train had been looking forward to catching the traitor. River raised the scope, scanning the skies beyond the mountain. She didn’t see any sign of Burk’s airship, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Her vision wasn’t as sharp as Socrates.

  “He’s too fast in that airship,” she said. “If we stop, we’ll never catch him.”

  “We don’t have a choice. If we don’t refuel, we won’t be going anywhere at all.”

  “Fine, as long as we don’t waste any time. When will we arrive?”

  “Within the hour.”

  “Perfect,” said River. “Just enough time to stow the welder and the rest of the equipment.”

  “You mean the breathigenator?” said Micah.

  River rolled her eyes. “No, I mean the portable submersible oxygenation apparatus.”

  “I’ve got it!” Micah shouted. “The cryo-breather!”

  “Umm, no,” said River. “I’m pretty sure cryo means frozen.”

  Micah considered that. “I think you’re right. It did sound good, though.”

  The conversation went on like this as they wandered back into the train.

  River lost track of Micah when he disappeared into the library car, and the rest of her walk was pleasantly quiet. When she reached the Engineering car, the familiar odors of grease and burnt metal welcomed her. As strange as it sounded, the Engineering car felt more like home to River than her own bunk room. In fact, it was probably the closest thing to a home she’d had since leaving her small shanty back in Avenston, where she had lived with Tinker. That shanty didn’t exist anymore. Tinker had blown it up, and himself along with it, in order to save her from the Vangar sentinels.

  After her escape, a human traitor known as Overseer Rutherford had captured River and made her into his slave. Rutherford was an ally of the Vangar invaders. Their engineers had modified his body with steam-powered enhancements that made him incredibly strong, and he had nearly killed River numerous times while she was his captive. Rutherford kept a Tal’mar healer on hand for just that purpose. This allowed him to abuse River right to the brink of death, and then have her healed so it could all begin again a few days later.

  River had eventually killed Rutherford. Not long after, the elf-like Tal’mar had driven the Vangars out, largely due to the efforts of River’s mother, Breeze and her half-brother, Crow. Even with the Vangars defeated, River knew she would never feel satisfied. Killing every Vangar in the world couldn’t bring back Tinker, or undo the things Rutherford had done to her. Those memories were hazy, but River still wore the slave collar on her throat like a necklace to remind her. It wasn’t just about remembering Rutherford; it was about remembering what can happen when you allow people to have power over your. River would never give anyone the chance to do that again.

  River began stowing her tools and equipment safely back in their containers. While she was working, Pirate stopped by for a visit. The coon was River’s pet, a gift from the mayor of Port Haven, a small town they had visited several weeks earlier. She gave Pirate free rein of the train, and he had become something of a mascot to the crew. The raccoon still spent his nights in River’s compartment, but his days were mostly spent in the dining car, begging for snacks and shots of rum. Pirate hopped up onto one of the workbenches and barked at her, trying to get River’s attention. She stopped what she was doing to pat him on the head.

  “Out of bed already?” she said sarcastically. “It’s only four o’clock in the afternoon.”

  Pirate made a purring noise as he pressed his body up against her. He looked up into her face and held out a paw. River narrowed her eyes.

  “I don’t have any treats,” she said. “I left them in my quarters.”

  Pirate snorted. He leapt off the bench and went scurrying out the door in the direction of the dining car. “Worthless little beggar,” River called after him, but Pirate was already gone.

  A short while later, Socrates let out a blast on the train’s steam whistle. His voice came drifting out of the commu
nication pipes: “Stop ahead, prepare to brake!”

  The sound of cheering and clapping came echoing out of the pipes. River smiled. The crew was eager for a change of scenery, and even she couldn’t deny a certain sense of relief at the thought of replenishing their supplies. She only hoped the delay wouldn’t be too long. Burk already had a substantial lead on the train, and River would be furious if they lost him.

  There was a loud screech of metal against metal as the brakes engaged, and the train lurched beneath River’s feet. She steadied herself against one of the work tables. As the Horse decelerated, the movement smoothed out. River left the Engineering car to meet the rest of the crew at the front of the train. She took a few seconds along the way to retrieve her spring-powered revolver from her quarters. She had learned to take precautions when meeting new people.

  Most of the crew had gathered on the large platforms at the front and rear of the dining car. River pushed through the crowd and up to the wrought-iron handrail. She found herself standing next to Kale. The sinewy, dark-haired warrior had been her friend since childhood. He didn’t notice her at first; his entire focus was on the city.

  “Good afternoon,” said a voice behind her.

  River turned to see Thane, the tall blond bard. At his side was the gorgeous Shayla, Thane’s long-time friend and the last surviving member of the bloodline to the throne of Astatia. Unfortunately for Shayla, the country had abandoned its monarchy in favor of a democratic system of elected judges and ruling councils.

  As always, the two were impeccably dressed. Shayla wore long, elegant black and red skirts with a tight-fitting bodice and black lace gloves. Dark bangs curled around her cheeks, framing her perfect, delicate features and pouty red lips. Thane wore suede forest green breeches tucked into his tall boots, with a long-tailed coat and a top-hat. The front of the brim bent down over his eyes, lending him a certain mysterious look. By contrast, Kale wore a sleeveless tunic (unbuttoned, of course), a pair of cloth breeches rolled up to his knees, and a pair of sandals made from some sort of corkwood. And he smelled like he hadn’t washed in days.