Assuming the men had to reload, Akstyr scrambled to his feet again. He thought about using his own pistol, but he only had the one shot, and he couldn’t see the men in the darkness. He returned to reeling out the fuse.
Books had measured out over fifty feet of it when setting things up for Akstyr. With guns firing in his direction, it seemed more like five hundred feet. He dared not cut it short though, not when he had to climb to safety before the explosives went off.
Finally, he reached the end. He hated to expose himself by opening the shutter of the lantern, but he had no choice. He unfastened the clasp and thrust the end of the fuse into the flame.
A gun fired, and the lantern was ripped from his hands.
Akstyr stumbled backward onto his butt. He snarled, prepared to spew out every curse he knew, but the flame had caught. Orange sparks danced at the end of the fuse.
Akstyr leaped to his feet and sprinted toward the spot where he’d left the rope. The snow had picked up, and he couldn’t see it. He tripped over a rock. Cursed ancestors, he could barely see where he was going.
Another shot fired, the bullet whizzing past his ear.
“Quit shooting at me, you ball-licking street-kissers!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt stupid. He felt even stupider when laughter floated up the trail. And that cussed dog was getting closer too.
Hands outstretched, Akstyr forced himself to ease along at a less reckless pace. He swatted only air though. Where was that ancestors-blighted rope?
The dirigible, you idiot, he told himself, and looked up. There. A square of light stood out against the dark hull. The rope dangled down from the hatch, swaying with the wind and disappearing into the darkness, but he could guess its final position now.
Akstyr jogged toward it. Something clacked behind him-dog claws on granite. Snarls and snapping teeth sounded, mere feet away.
A huge, dark shape barreled out of the darkness and leaped for Akstyr. There was no time to grab his pistol and shoot it. He jumped to the side and kicked out. The dog twisted in the air and would have caught him with those snapping teeth, but his boot connected. It was enough to unbalance the animal, but the dog was still snarling when it landed behind him.
Akstyr sprinted the last ten feet and found the rope. Ice and snow caked the cold twine, making the grip slippery and biting into his bare hands. He climbed with mulish determination and dared not look down to check on the dog.
“What’d he do?” a man shouted.
Fool that he was, Akstyr stopped. He’d only climbed a few feet and was far from safe, but if they put out the fuse, then all this would have been a waste of time.
The two rifle slingers had stopped on the ledge, and one crouched, staring at the flame zipping along the fuse. Both men carried lanterns, so Akstyr could make out faces and clothing; but he didn’t recognize either person, and neither wore the uniform of a soldier beneath his parka. There was no time to stop and ask who they were. He tightened his grip on the ice-slick rope with his left hand and pulled out his pistol with his right.
A shape blurred out of the darkness toward him. The dog.
His first instinct was to shoot it, but he hesitated, thinking he needed to save the bullet for the man standing over his fuse. His hesitation cost him, and the dog reached him, jaws snapping. Akstyr tried to dodge aside, but he couldn’t maneuver while hanging from the rope. Sharp fangs pierced his calf, slicing through clothing to gouge into flesh and muscle. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but the weight of the dog, hanging from his leg, almost tore him from the rope. New pain erupted in his shoulder as opposing forces pulled at him. Determination to hang on surged through him, but, even so, his grip slipped, and he inched down the rope.
With his free hand, Akstyr slammed the butt of the pistol into the dog’s head. He tucked his free leg up and kicked at the beast’s belly. The combined effort finally convinced it to let go. A fresh wave of agony washed over Akstyr, as more of his flesh was torn away when the dog fell. He forced himself to focus on the men again.
One was kicking at the fuse, trying to stomp out the flame before it reached the crevice. Akstyr lifted his pistol, struggling to aim while the twisting, swinging rope fought against him. No time for lining up a shot. He fired, and hoped.
The man stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder. His lantern dropped to the ground and went out. His comrade reached for him, arms outstretched, and Akstyr caught a glimpse of the back of the man’s hand. There, highlighted by the lantern light, was a brand. Akstyr couldn’t make out the details, but only gang members from Stumps had such marks emblazoned on their hands.
“Akstyr,” came Books’s voice from above. “Get out of there!”
Yes, right. Explosives. Akstyr tried to holster his pistol, fumbled it, and simply dropped it. He climbed as fast as he could, trying to ignore the injured leg.
A gun fired, and new pain ripped through him, searing his shoulder. Then a boom echoed through the mountains, and an ominous rumble welled up from below. A wave of force struck Akstyr like a battering ram.
All he could think of was to hang onto the rope with all of his strength as he flew through the air. Snow streaked sideways through his vision, and he lost track of whether he was facing up, down, or somewhere in between. The rope ran out of room to swing and snapped to a halt with a jerk that nearly tore his shoulders from their sockets.
One hand slipped from the rope, and he dangled helplessly by the other. He glimpsed tons and tons of rock sloughing into the ravine beneath him. Lest he join it, he flailed to recapture the rope with fingers gone numb from the cold. He finally got both hands back on it, but it was swinging back the other way. Akstyr cringed, anticipating another jerky stop, but the rope started rising. That motion quelled the fierce swaying. Up above, Books straddled the hatchway as he pulled the rope up. Weary and hurt, Akstyr simply hung on. The rocks were still shifting and falling below, throwing a cloud of dust into the air. The men were gone. If the railway tracks were still there, they were buried beneath rubble.
Even with Books’s help, Akstyr struggled to claw his way back into the engine room. As soon as he had the floor beneath him, he collapsed.
Books reached out a hand. “All you all right?”
“I got shot and bit,” Akstyr snarled, rejecting the help. “What do you think?”
Books pulled up the remaining rope, coiled it, and shut the hatch. “That if you can complain about it in complete, albeit grammatically questionable, sentences, you’ll be fine.”
Akstyr scarcely heard him. His mind was whirring at the revelation that those had been gang members. They hadn’t cared about the dirigible or the plan to close the pass; they’d just wanted him. They must have been trying to collect on his new bounty, but how could they have known he’d be up there?
It took a moment, and then realization came like a shot to the head. His mother. He’d mentioned to her where he’d be going. “Idiot,” he whispered to himself.
“What?” Books asked.
Akstyr growled and sat up to investigate his wounds. The shoulder stung, but the bullet had only grazed him. On the other hand, the dog bite was ragged and deep. He hoped it wouldn’t get infected. He didn’t have a good history of healing infections. He wasn’t even sure if he could concentrate well enough to heal normal cuts with pain distracting him. Another disgusted growl rumbled in his throat, and he flopped back onto the floor. “They were waiting for me, Books.”
“Yes, I apologize for not coming to your aid. I was in the navigation cabin, focusing on not bumping into that cliff, and I didn’t hear the gunshots at first. Who were they? Soldiers?”
“Not soldiers,” Akstyr said and debated whether to share more. Maybe he should pretend he had no idea who they were and what they’d been doing up there. Otherwise, he’d have to admit there was a bounty on his head and that he’d foolishly told his mother about some of the team’s plans. It’d be best to feign ignorance. Except he might need the group’s help to take care of the Madcats, especially now that it didn’t look like he’d be getting out of the city any time soon. “They were from the gangs, from the city. They were after me specifically.”
Books frowned. “Why?”
“The Madcats have a bounty on my head.”
“How would they know you were here? You didn’t tell anyone about our mission, did you?”
Akstyr’s lips twisted. “Just my mother.”
“Oh.”
