The Dragon's Breath (Aboard the Great Iron Horse Book 3) Page 15

  The meat lent itself to a wide variety of dishes. Shayla saw a stew, roasts, stuffed breads, and grilled and peppered dragon meat all within easy reach. Even though it tasted fine, Shayla could only bring herself to peck at the food. The dragon’s head staring at her seemed to have ruined her appetite.

  At one point, Shayla overheard Socrates discussing the food preparation with the king. He seemed somewhat concerned about the effects of starfall residue that might linger in the meat. The king cheerfully explained that this was not a problem. Due to the nature of the dragons’ scales, only the deepest parts of their flesh was edible. The remnants were burned to clean the scales, which were then ground into a powder and used as welding flux for the forges. This explanation seemed to pacify Socrates, and the conversation moved on to other things.

  Tired of eavesdropping on their small talk, Shayla turned her attention to the other guests in her vicinity. Thane, who was seated next to her and hadn’t shut up since the moment he’d taken a seat, made this an easy transition. Somehow, he’d managed to maintain no less than three conversations at once with several women seated nearby. They seemed quite taken with his charming ways. No surprise, considering the barbaric nature of their men, many of whom had been watching Shayla closely since the moment she’d entered the mountain.

  Shayla couldn’t help noticing that the women of Dragonwall were in fact rather attractive, albeit in a tall, masculine sort of way. Not unlike River. She could easily have imagined them carrying swords and battle-axes, but couldn’t quite picture them wearing fine satin and delicate lace. Even the most ladylike women, such as the queen, seemed content to wear linen and canvas dresses and soft leather boots.

  Still, they had a certain provincial charm that even Shayla couldn’t deny. They were not only a strong and courageous people, but also clever and inventive. For the first time in their adventure, Shayla actually wondered if the people of Dragonwall might make a good match for the crew of the Iron Horse. Perhaps alliances even beyond business could be forged.

  As the evening wore on, musicians filed into the far end of the hall carrying harps, lutes, flutes, and drums. They set up their instruments before the great fireplace and began playing soft, soothing music while the servants cleared the banquet table and replaced the platters with dessert plates, bottles of sweet red wine, and braziers burning incense. With the torches doused, the only light was that of the flickering candles and the massive fire at the end of the hall.

  Shayla noticed an increasing lightheartedness among her companions. The food, drink, and dessert had eased their concerns. For the most part, they seemed to be getting along quite well with their hosts. Well enough, Shayla decided, that no one would notice if she slipped out and did a little snooping. This proved quite simple. She merely waited for an opportune moment, when those around her were engrossed in one of the king’s dragon-slaying stories, and quietly took her leave.

  As Shayla left the banquet hall, she found herself on the main walkway, about one-third of the way up the mountain. It was quiet, other than the constant spinning and clicking sounds of the giant clockwork machine, and the passageways sprouting off to her left every few yards were deserted. She turned into one and climbed the gentle slope a few hundred yards, until she came to another large passage with a staircase leading up.

  Shayla climbed the stairs, studying the symbols and drawings she encountered on the walls along the way. The people of Dragonwall had a unique style of writing. Their letters were straight and blocky; simple so they could be carved into stone. Despite that, they spoke the common language shared by most of the people she had met, with a few minor variations. When she found the symbol of a many-pointed star next to a door, she took that passage into a large, unlit room.

  Shayla struck a match and held it high, turning as she scanned the darkness. She retrieved a torch from the wall nearby and touched the flame to the end just as the match went out. The torch flared to life. Shadows lengthened around her, twisting, creeping around the tall, misshapen forms of tables and shelves, strange machines, and tools. Some of the objects had sheets draped over them, and one of these in particular caught her attention. It was massive, stretching more than ten feet high and reaching nearly thirty feet into the darkness.

  Shayla approached it, touching the blanket curiously. The object underneath was hard, smooth but jagged at the edges, like the broken blade of a sword. She raised her hand higher, gliding across the firm, flat surface. At last, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, Shayla closed her fingers around the blanket and gave it a firm tug. It fell away, and the flickering light of her torch fell across the surface of a machine unlike any she had ever seen before.

  It was a vehicle of some sort, she decided, taking a step back. Not unlike a steamwagon, except that this was much larger. Plus, it was armored, and had steel wheels with sharp spikes jutting outward. If she wasn’t mistaken, those two short cylindrical protrusions at the front were the barrels of cannons.

  Strange, she thought. Very, very strange. At first it seemed to her that Dane’s engineers must have built the machine to fight dragons. That couldn’t be right though, because if that was the case, they would have been using the machine instead of storing it way in some deep, dusty dungeon. She turned, examining the other items in the area, looking for something that might explain her discovery.

  Shayla saw wrenches, hammers, and drills. She recognized the shapes of crude steam engines and other unsophisticated machinery. She heard a noise behind her, and spun around to come face to face with a tall, lanky man with wild brown hair. He smiled, revealing a broken tooth.

  “Hear, hear,” he said. “I was wondering where you got off to, pretty lady.”

  “I was just walking,” Shayla said, taking a step back.

  “Walking where you shouldn’t be,” the man said, pressing closer. Shayla took another step and found herself backed up against the machine.

  “I think I’ll go back now,” she said, trying to step around him. He moved to intercept her. Shayla lifted the torch defensively.

  “Now that ain’t nice,” he said, reaching for it. He jerked it out of her hand and tossed it aside. In a flash, Shayla had her fan in her hand. She concealed her face, all except for her smoldering, unreadable eyes. The man grinned.

  “Getting too hot in here for ya, girlie?” He reached for her. Shayla’s hand moved. The fan made a clicking sound as it spun in front of his face and a dozen tiny, sharp blades protruded from the ends of the ribs. The blades slid across his throat, drawing a straight, shallow line of blood.

  “What the devils!” he shouted, taking a step back. He reached up, touching the wound. His eyes widened as he saw crimson staining his fingers. “You dirty whore! You’re going to pay for that.”

  He raised his clenched fist in the air, closing in on her. Shayla stared into his face with a defiant glare. The man took two steps and froze. His eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he tried to suck in a breath, and his lungs made a wheezing, rattling noise. Shayla lowered her fan, a cruel grin turning up the corners of her mouth. The would-be rapist dropped to his knees, staring up at her with a horrified grimace.

  “Poison,” Shayla said. “Remember that, next time you try to rape a woman.”

  His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell sideways, striking his head on the machine as he went down. The steel made a hollow ringing sound. Shayla heard a noise behind her and she spun around. Standing at the edge of the torchlight, she recognized Thane’s tall, lean figure.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said in a low voice.

  “He didn’t leave me any choice.”

  “You chose to come here. You came alone. What were you thinking?”

  “I was only following my instincts,” she said. “It is not in my nature to trust strangers readily, and for good reason. Look! What do you see behind me?”

  Thane looked the machine up and down. “What is it?”

  “It is a weapon!”

  “Are you sure
?”

  “Look at it, Thane. Don’t you see the cannons? The armor? What else could it possibly be?”

  “What is it for?”

  “Now that is the question, is it not?”

  He looked down at the limp body lying on the floor. “What about him? I suppose I should hide the body.”

  “He’s not dead,” Shayla said. “He should be fine in the morning.”

  Thane raised an eyebrow. “Should be?”

  “Poisons are a delicate matter,” she said, waving the fan in front of her face. “But he’s still breathing, and that’s a good sign.”

  “We’re still going to have to deal with him, one way or another.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

  “Oh? And why not?”

  “Because,” she said, pulling close to him and lowering her voice to a whisper. “We’re not the ones hiding a war machine in our basement.”

  Thane pursed his lips. “Let’s get out of here before somebody else sees us.”

  Chapter 21

  In the predawn light, Kale woke to the quiet clinking sounds of armor. He bolted upright, blinking at the light streaming in through the doorway. He instinctively reached for his sword and then remembered where he was. He took a deep breath and relaxed, the hilt in his grip already forgotten.

  Dane’s servants had prepared quarters for all the king’s guests, but Kale alone had been granted the privilege of sharing a room in Dane’s private quarters. After the feast, the two had stayed up late into the night, drinking ale and telling stories of their adventures. One in particular, Kale knew he’d never forget.

  “There I was,” Dane had said, his eyes glittering in the firelight. “All of fourteen, armed with an axe and a shield and not a lick of sense. I knew that the stories were true, though. I knew there was gold hidden behind those waterfalls, and when I had it, I would be so rich they’d make me king of Dragonwall.”

  “What about the dragons?” said Kale, his words slurring a little from the phenomenal amount of ale he’d consumed. “How did you get into the crater without running into them?”

  “It was easy,” Dane said. “Dragons are lazy during the day. As long as they’re well fed, and you don’t get too close, they’ll ignore you. They knew I wasn’t a threat.”

  “So you climbed into the crater, all by yourself?”

  “Climbed in, and walked halfway across,” Dane said. “When I got to the base of the falls, I was sure I’d go inside and find a hoard of gold.” He paused to take a long swig from his tankard.

  “And?” Kale said, leaning forward. “What did you find?”

  “Rocks!” Dane bellowed, slapping him on the back. “What did you expect?”

  Kale leaned back in his chair, rolling his eyes. “You’re lucky one of those dragons didn’t have you for lunch.”

  “You haven’t heard the whole story,” Dane said with a knowing wink. “I waded through the ponds and climbed thirty feet of slick, wet rocks, only to find a narrow space barely big enough to stand in. I was about to leave when I heard voices, so I crept along the ledge until I came to a small lake. What do you suppose I saw? Half a dozen dryads swimming naked in the water!”

  Kale’s eyes lit up. “Dryads?”

  “Aye, like your Tal’mar friends, but taller. I tell you, they were the most gorgeous creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “I jumped in the lake, of course. I swam over and introduced myself. I hadn’t come all that way for nothing!”

  They shared a long laugh before Dane went on to recount another hour’s worth of his youthful exploits. Kale didn’t even remember what time he had finally stumbled into bed, but judging from the dull ache in his head when he woke, and the taste of sand in his mouth, he hadn’t slept long. He took a deep drink of water before getting dressed and going out to meet Dane.

  Kale found the king already dressed for battle. He wore a chainmail tunic with plate greaves, pauldrons, and bracers. Aileen came into the room carrying a baldric for his great sword, which she helped him strap on. When they were finished, Dane looked Kale up and down skeptically.

  “Give me your sword,” he said.

  Kale drew the weapon and handed it to him, hilt first. Dane accepted the sword and looked it over. “Rusted blade. Cracked hilt. Can’t read the marks, but I’d recognize it anywhere. Where’d you find this?”

  “I took it from the cave,” Kale said. “It was in a pile of bones.”

  “I thought so. This blade belonged to a friend of mine, many years ago. We grew up together. I’ll never forget the day he won the lottery and went looking for the dragon.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kale said. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I just needed a weapon…”

  “Nonsense. It’s only steel. Come with me, we’ll find you a real warrior’s weapon.”

  Dane kissed his wife. Aileen wished him a safe return, and they left by way of a long downward-sloping passage that branched out every hundred feet into a maze of different passages and stairwells.

  “This is the armory,” Dane said a few minutes later. They entered a large room that was filled with old broken war-steeds, spring-powered exoskeletons, and a variety of other machines and weapons. Kale followed the king across the room, but paused when he came to the large tank-like machine with the cover pulled back.

  “That’s the Bonecrusher,” Dane said, joining him. “It was my great-grandfather’s invention. He was the first to try to use technology to hunt the dragons. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.”

  “Why not?” said Kale, hammering his fist against it. “Feels pretty solid.”

  “Solid as a rock, but slow. The dragons couldn’t hurt it, but it couldn’t move fast enough to catch them.”

  “What about the cannon?”

  “The turret moves too slow, too difficult to aim. They used this machine for close to a year and only killed three dragons with it. We can do better than that on foot. When one of the big ones hit it with a blast of fire that cooked the men inside, my grandfather decided it was time to retire the machine.”

  “Cooked?” Kale said.

  “Just like a big steel oven,” Dane said, patting it. His fingers grazed a spot of moisture and he frowned, staring at the red stain on his fingertips. “That’s strange. I wonder who’s been down here.” He turned, scanning the area for more evidence. He found only a few drops of blood on the floor nearby. The king knelt down to examine them, and then stood upright with a sigh.

  “Probably a couple drunks fighting last night,” he said. “No matter. This isn’t what we came for.”

  Dane led Kale to the back, where hundreds of swords, axes, and other weapons hung suspended by short iron hooks mounted to the wall. Kale grabbed a long sword and held it up, testing the weight.

  “Not bad,” he said. “I could use a couple of these.”

  Dane grabbed another sword and handed it to him. “Try that one,” the king said.

  This sword was about the same length as the first, but wider in the blade towards the hilt, and had a nice sturdy steel guard that was blued to a shiny black. The pommel matched the guard. The blade had two fullers running down the length of it on either side, and Kale noticed the ever-so-faint patterns of a forge weld spiraling through the metal in wide ovals. The handle was leather, stained crimson red.

  Kale tested the weight. It was heavy; heavy enough that most men would have used it as a two-handed weapon, but between Kale’s size and his incredible strength, he found it perfectly comfortable for one-handed use. He switched hands, testing it in his left. A wide grin spread across his face.

  “Do you have two of these?”

  Dane laughed. He walked down the line and located another, almost identical weapon. The second had the exact same blade and fittings, except the pattern in the steel looked like a series of repeating X and O shapes, and the handle was stained a deep midnight blue.

  “You won’t find finer steel anywhere,” Dane said proudly. �
��Each blade is folded to more than a thousand layers.”

  “I don’t have any money,” Kale said. “How can I pay you?”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll earn them today. Grab a spear, too. Always take a spear when fighting dragons. Let’s look at some armor.”

  Kale grabbed a baldric to carry the swords on his back, and then followed Dane to the adjacent wall, where a dozen full suits of armor rested on stands. Hundreds of miscellaneous pieces of plate, chain, and even leather mail were hanging from the wall. Kale looked everything over, but had a hard time making up his mind.

  “I’ve never worn plate,” he said. “It looks cumbersome.”

  “Some of my men prefer plate. It seems to give them courage. Personally, I think it’s ludicrous. If that tank is like being trapped in a big oven, that plate armor is like a very small oven. Imagine wearing a red-hot breastplate.”

  Kale’s eyes widened. “No wonder Elberone died so fast.”

  “Exactly. And now imagine a red-hot codpiece.”

  Kale winced. “What about chainmail?”

  “It’s a compromise. It’s heavy and absorbs heat, but you can remove it quickly. In close quarters, it’s good for keeping those claws out of your guts. Of course leather is lighter, cooler, and faster.”

  “Leather it is,” said Kale. He located a leather hauberk long enough to reach to his knees. He pulled that over his head. On top of it he wore a hardened leather breastplate, spaulders, and bracers. To protect his hands, Kale wore a pair of soft leather gloves. In a very short time, he was prepared for battle.

  “Perfect,” Dane said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Now let’s kill some dragons!”

  They climbed to the top of the mountain and found half a dozen armed fighters waiting on the wall. Kale noticed that most of them wore some plate armor, but no one wore an entire set. He wondered if Dane had exaggerated their love for plate. Most of the men carried swords or axes with shields, but two favored crossbows instead. The king stood up on the edge of the battlements and looked the group over.