"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:
WE SHALL ALL BE HEALED
Anza pressed her back against a stone dragon atop the roof of the palace. The night sky was full of aerial guard and valkyries. Within the palace a dozen ox-dogs bayed. They were all searching for her. She'd spent most of the day skulking around the palace, trying to establish who'd seen the scroll containing the secret of gunpowder. Tonight, she'd acted. Two dozen sky-dragons were dead in her wake. The only important target she'd missed was Chapelion himself. She hoped he hadn't committed the formula to memory. She'd recovered Bazanel's original scroll and two copies and burned them.
Unfortunately, it had proven impossible to execute her plan in complete secrecy. The first bodies had been discovered long before she was finished with her targets. She'd been increasingly on the defensive as news spread through the palace that an assassin was present. With the ox-dogs now on her trail, she'd spent the last hour retreating to ever higher ground.