Tin Swift

Mingled with the foul odor of Mr. Shunt was the scent of Captain Hink, his blood, his pain.

But not his death. Not yet.

The soldiers were quickly realizing the assault they were under, and turned to guns and cover, taking aim at the Swift and abandoning the ships in the hangar.

Molly and Miss Dupuis were pressed up against the shadow of the low, long building that was probably a barracks, shooting, reloading, shooting, as they made their way toward the door.

Seldom and Guffin were lost to the smoke and flashes of gunfire. A separate explosion rocked the building behind Molly and Miss Dupuis.

Seldom must be that way.

Cannons from the Swift aimed at the artillery shed. The world flattened into a silent roar of red as the munitions blew a hole in the hill.

Blood everywhere, screams in the darkness. Men dying. Strangework pulled apart as if the strings had suddenly been cut.

And then another cannon fired. Not the Swift. This was a much bigger gun.

The hillside bloomed with a white-hot flash as the Saint’s heavy artillery aimed at the Swift. The Swift’s fans roared, carrying her higher, but not out of range. Not nearly out of range yet. She’d been repaired, as much as they could do in the air, but she wasn’t up to full muster.

The scent of Mr. Shunt was stronger. Cedar’s mouth watered. He wanted to taste that creature’s blood. He wanted to tear him into so many pieces there wouldn’t be enough of him left to smear the sole of a shoe.

Wil beside him laughed as they tore across the rocky ground, Cedar only half a step behind him.

Shunt was in the tent just ahead. Hink was in that tent. That, Cedar knew for sure. What he didn’t know was if there were more men in the tent, more prisoners.

They rushed into the tent, fingers on triggers.

The world went slow, so slow around him. And the scene in the tent clicked like the flash pan of a camera in Cedar’s mind.

Three tables. Covered in blood. Low light from lanterns glossing the hooks and blades of surgical tools, a pile of discarded body parts and bones stacked in one corner.

In the middle of the room, strapped down to a table, Captain Hink. Unconscious, his face a gory mess, still breathing.

Two men in the corners. Strangework, but not Shunt.

Behind those men, the doorway Mr. Shunt must have just run out through.

Son of a bitch.

Cedar leveled his shotgun and blew the man on the left off his feet. Wil took aim with the Walker and plugged the other man right between the eyes.

Both men tumbled to the ground. But they were Strangework. They’d get right back up again if Wil and Cedar didn’t tear their throats out.

No time.

He’d come to save Hink. That was his promise to Rose. That was what they were all putting their lives on the line for.

He drew his knife and cut Hink’s straps. He tossed Wil the shotgun and caught the Walker Wil threw at him in trade.

Then Cedar leaned down and pulled the captain across his shoulders.

Captain Hink was not a small man. Cedar snarled under the weight of him. Walking out of here was not going to be a pretty thing.

Wil came up beside him. “You got that?” he asked.

“For now,” Cedar said. “Go.”

Wil pushed through the tent flap and back into the night.

There were enough buildings on fire now that it was easy to see the row of soldiers, all aiming weapons at them, standing just a few yards away, blocking their route to the ship.

Mr. Shunt stood behind them, tall and ragged and far too alive.

A burly man paced forward. He was in uniform, wearing the rank of a general, a sword at one side, gun at the other. His eyes were strangely mismatched in the wavering light, so much so that one seemed to be nothing but a metal ball with a black hole in it.

“Well, then, I see Mr. Cage has his uses after all,” he said. “Mr. Shunt, is this the hunter and wolf?”

“Yes,” Shunt hissed.

“Where,” the general asked, “is the witch?”

Cedar couldn’t fight with Hink on his shoulders. Twelve men held guns on them.

Shunt stood behind them, letting the strangework bodies guard his own. But even with all the flesh and fire and blood between Cedar and Shunt, Cedar could smell his fear, he could hear the ticking of whatever he was using as a heart, each tick minutely slower than the last, and he could sense the Holder. Singing the high, slow song that set the hair on his arms rising.

It was near here. No, it was near Shunt.

“Tell us where the witch is, and we will let you go,” the general said.

“Do you think us stupid, General?” Cedar asked.

The general opened his mouth. But whatever he was going to say was cut short.

“You half-cocked piece of crap,” Molly Gregor yelled from the shadows. “Get the hell away from my captain.”

A bolt of lightning shot out across the soldiers, missing General Saint, but dropping a half dozen men to the ground and throwing the entire stand off into a scattering of chaos. Miss Dupuis had Joonie’s lightning gun.

“Fire!” the general yelled.

His men lifted their weapons.

Like a house of cards collapsing, everything seemed to fall in quick succession.

Three men turned to fire on Molly and Miss Dupuis. Cedar could count the bullets, could see Molly duck out from cover into the spray, her rifle steady as she took aim at the general’s head.

“Molly,” Cedar yelled, “no!”

Three men aimed at Cedar and Wil.

Wil was faster, taking out two with two bullets: throat and eye.

Cedar ran, Hink still over his shoulder, weighing him down, firing as he pounded for cover, not at the man aiming at him, but at the soldiers aiming at Molly.

Miss Dupuis was behind Molly, grim and calm, the lightning gun spent and the revolver in her hand blasting shot after shot.

Cedar couldn’t stop the bullets heading to Molly. Miss Dupuis couldn’t pull her away in time.

Molly pulled the trigger on her rifle to kill General Saint.

She shuddered, bullets tearing through her. She fell. But got one shot off.

Her bullet sped toward General Saint’s head.

And blew right through the middle of his forehead and out the back of his skull.

He crumpled to the ground.

The Swift was too far gone to help. Every soldier in the compound was running over here with loaded guns.

Where were Guffin and Seldom?

They would not survive this. None of them.

They didn’t have guns enough, didn’t have cover enough, didn’t have time enough.

But Cedar wouldn’t leave Molly here to die alone.

As each foot fell, as Wil fired beside him, matching his pace, taking out men, he knew the escape they ran toward became more and more unlikely with each heartbeat.

They had lost this fight before they had jumped rope off the ship.

Molly lay on the ground, facing the sky, bleeding. Miss Dupuis had had to fall back for cover, and couldn’t get close enough to drag Molly toward her.