“Not unless Amaranthe’s purse contains more than glue for her fake nose,” Books said.
“Actually, I have some of Sicarius’s dried meat-and-fat bars in here,” Amaranthe said.
“I’d rather eat the nose glue,” Akstyr said.
“You may change your mind after another day out here.”
Akstyr’s grumbled response was too low to make out.
They continued their trudge, cold and miserable and unequipped for the terrain, though traveling downhill took some of the anguish out of the trek. As dawn broke over the mountains, the clear sky untouched by smog and impressive in its gradated pinks and oranges, they reached the pass. The cleared tracks, snow piled high to either side, wound through the treacherous terrain, a black snake navigating boulders and slopes.
Amaranthe angled toward a bridge, the support structure towering well over the tracks. It’d be an opportune place-or rather the only place-to jump onto a moving train, and the team had practiced such maneuvers before.
That didn’t keep Books from groaning as they approached. “Why am I certain of what’s in your mind and certain it’ll be dangerous?”
“Really, Books, we’ve been chased by man-incinerating machines, flung from an aircraft so alien our science can’t begin to fathom it, and hurtled hundreds of miles to crash on a mountainside. You’re going to complain about something as benign as hopping onto a train?”
“She’s got a point, you know,” Akstyr said. “It’s freezing out here. I’d do just about anything to get off this mountain.”
Books’s harrumphed.
Amaranthe nudged Akstyr. “He’s just complaining out of habit now. It’s what men do when they get old.”
“I am not old,” Books said. “I probably wouldn’t even have any gray hair yet if I weren’t traipsing around after you all the time. This last year has been enough to age a man ten.”
“That’s a lie. You had gray temples when I met you.”
“Fine, these last two years have been enough to age a man ten.”
They’d reached the base of the bridge, frothy white water frozen into ridges of ice far below, and Amaranthe stopped teasing Books. She didn’t wish to remind him of the death of his son and the difficult times he’d faced before joining her team. Granted, he was right that the last year hadn’t been without difficulties either. But it’d all end soon. One way or another.
This time, Amaranthe heard the train first, the distant chugs coming from the west. “It’s heading to the capital. This is our opportunity.” She waved for them to climb halfway up one of the towers rising from the suspension bridge. “It’s still dark enough that, if we’re lucky, the engineer won’t notice us crouching up there.”
“We’re due some luck,” Books said.
“Let’s be happy there are trains coming through and that we didn’t have to wait for days out here.” The East-West Line was a busy one, taking passengers and freight from Stumps to the various ports on the west coast and back, but Amaranthe hadn’t known what to expect with the capital locked down. She did know the train would be stopped and searched before being allowed into the city. Best to worry about getting on first. “Akstyr, can you make the climb?” she asked.
Books was shimmying up the steel supports, but Akstyr stood at the base, staring upward, his eyes sunken and his body slumped.
“Yes,” he sighed and started climbing. “But promise me I can curl up in a corner and sleep the rest of the way back to the city.”
“It’d probably be best to stay on the roof,” Books called down, “so they don’t know we’ve sneaked aboard. You can sleep up there.”
“Sounds cold.”
Amaranthe secured her rifle across her back and climbed up after them without commenting, though she agreed the roof might be best. That way, they could jump off the train as it was pulling into the checkpoint, before any soldiers climbed aboard to search.
By the time she joined the men on a ledge halfway up the tower, the train was lumbering into view, its pace slow as it wound its way up the mountainside and into the pass.
“Dead ancestors with caltrops,” Amaranthe said when she spotted black-painted cars with golden imperial army logos on the sides. Those cars, dozens of them, would be filled with soldiers. More troops to support Flintcrest? Or Heroncrest? Or even Ravido? Whoever’s men they were, they wouldn’t be coming to join Sespian.
“Definitely best to stay on the roof,” Books said, “or avoid getting on altogether. How do you feel about waiting for the next train?”
Akstyr groaned, doubtlessly displeased at the idea of climbing back down, then having to climb back up again later. And then there was the cold and the limited food supply. Amaranthe flexed her numbed fingers within mittens made to ward off the chill during a quick outing into the city, not to protect digits from sub-zero mountain temperatures. Thanks to the wind, she already couldn’t feel her nose, and white crystals had frozen her lashes together. Now that they’d stopped moving, the chill was more noticeable. The sun might bring a reprieve, but another storm could come in that day too.
“We have no idea how long we’d be waiting,” she said, “and the next train might be more of the same. Someone ought to block the pass so all these reinforcements can’t continue to trickle in.”
“No,” Books said, sounding like Sicarius for a moment, he being the only one of the men who blatantly naysayed her.
Amaranthe had simply been musing aloud, so she wasn’t affronted by his vehemence. Their priority should be getting back to the city, not attacking supply lines, and she knew it. Yet… she had a hard time dropping the idea now that it’d formed.
“We don’t have any explosives,” Akstyr said. “And I’m too tired to make a landslide.”
“We wouldn’t necessarily need anything so permanent. What if we jumped on behind the locomotive, and decoupled the rest of the cars, the same as the last time we hopped a train? The soldiers would be stranded, and the railway into the city would be blocked until someone got another locomotive out to move the cars.”
Books was staring at her. “Can’t you ever take the easy route? Why can’t we catch a ride into the city and leave it at that?”
“You disagree that it’d be wise to deny reinforcements to the generals competing with Sespian for the throne?”
“No, but why do we always have to do these things?” Books sounded tired and frazzled. They’d all been up for too long without sleep.
“Who else will?” Amaranthe asked.
He growled. “Maybe we should stand back, let them all fight each other until they’re tired of it, then come in and offer a less bloodthirsty system of government to the survivors.”
“You think it would be that easy?”
Books sighed and leaned his head against the steel beam. “No.”
“It’s going to be here in a second.” Akstyr pointed at the oncoming train, the black locomotive leading the way, its grill guard like a wolf’s snarling face, full of sharp fangs.
Amaranthe shifted her weight on the ledge, readying herself to jump. “Coal car,” she instructed.
Books didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t resume the argument.
The pass was flat compared to the terrain the train had finished climbing, and it picked up speed as it bore down on the bridge. They’d have to time their jump carefully. None of them were fresh.
Judging the approach in her head, listening to the clicketyclack of the wheels rolling over rail segments, Amaranthe said, “Now!” and dropped from the tower. Wind roared in her ears, then faded as her feet hit the coal.
Elbows jostled her as she turned the landing into a roll, Akstyr and Books doing the same. They couldn’t have dropped in any closer to each other if they’d held hands. She banged someone with her rifle, and the coal scraped her fake nose off, but that was the worst of their injuries. As one, they rose into low crouches, careful to keep their heads down. If someone in the first troop car had seen them drop, or noticed them now… She was all too aware that Sicarius, Maldynado, and Basilard weren’t with her this time. As much as her ego wanted to reject the notion, she, Books, and Akstyr were the weakest fighters on the team. When she’d been separating everyone into neat parties, she hadn’t planned on combat for her half. Naive, that. She hoped Sespian was finding her men useful in Fort Urgot.