Deryn sighed. That count was a shifty one.
Alek switched back to Clanker-talk, ordering Klopp to disconnect the walker from the sledge. It was odd how many words in German were almost the same as in English, once you’d got your ear in. For once, though, Alek wasn’t getting his way. The old man folded his arms, and kept saying nein and nicht, which any dafty could tell were Clanker for “no.”
And it was obvious Bauer and Hoffman would obey Klopp, not Alek, however important the boy was back in Clanker-land. Without their help the Stormwalker was stuck here, like a dog tied to a stake.
Deryn drew her rigging knife, but reckoned that holding it to Alek’s throat wouldn’t work twice. Besides, she’d promised not to.
But it was time for this squabble to end.
With the hilt of the knife she thumped Klopp hard on his pointy helmet. It slipped down over his eyes, squelching his latest argument.
She turned to Alek. “Give me an axe.”
Deryn was down the chain ladder in a squick, the axe thrust through her safety harness. The snow was deep here on the slope, filling her boots with murderous cold as she trudged up to the sledge.
She’d watched Klopp rig this contraption, so she knew its weakness. The ends of the chain were welded to two iron posts on the front of the sledge, the chain’s length threaded through a steel ring at the Stormwalker’s waist. If she cut either end, the chain would slide through the ring and out, freeing the walker.
But it was massive, each link as big as Deryn’s hand. She chose the right side of the sledge. The welding looked hasty there, the wood of the sledge dotted with globs of metal. She scooped up snow in her gloved hands and packed it around a link of chain. Hopefully Alek was right and the freezing cold would make the metal brittle.
“All right, then,” she said, raising the axe. “Break!”
Her first swing bounced limply back. The chain was too slack to take the force of the blow.
“We don’t have time for this!” she cried, glancing at the horizon. The two airships were close enough for her to see their markings now—Iron Crosses on their tail fins, their skins silvery in the morning sun.
“Mr. Sharp!” called Dr. Barlow, her head sticking up from the Stormwalker’s hatch. “Anything we can do?”
“Aye,” Deryn shouted. “Pull it tight!”
Dr. Barlow disappeared, and a moment later the Stormwalker’s engines surged. It took a shuffling step ahead, the chain snapping taut. The sledge shifted a bit beside Deryn as she packed more snow.
Her next swing hit the unyielding metal hard, sending a nasty shock up her arms. She knelt to look closer: The blow had left a notch in one of the metal links, and another in the axe. But the chain wasn’t split.
“Blisters.”
“Anything?” Dr. Barlow called.
Deryn didn’t answer, swinging again as hard as she could. The axe bounced from her hands—she leapt back as it spun through the air, landing a few yards away.
“Careful, Mr. Sharp!” the lady boffin admonished.
Deryn ignored her, peering closer. One link of the chain showed a tiny fracture, too narrow for another link to slip through.
But under enough force the metal might bend.
She called up to the Stormwalker, “Tell Alek to pull— as hard as he can!”
Dr. Barlow nodded, and soon the Stormwalker began to roar again. The machine shifted from foot to foot, digging itself deeper into the snow. Sparks glimmered as its metal feet scraped bare stone below. The sledge crept forward a bit, nudging at Deryn’s knee like some huge dim beastie trying to get her attention.
The broken link was bending, the fissure stretching wider with every surge of the walker’s engines. Deryn took a wary step back. The chain was going to lash out like a giant metal bullwhip when it finally pulled free.
She scanned the horizon. The two airships had split apart to come at their prey from opposite directions. The sky rippled as the Leviathan’s flocks took to the air. But the whale itself lay motionless on the ground, helpless to escape the Clankers’ approach.
“Blister this!” Deryn trudged to where the axe had fallen and pulled it from the snow. One good wallop anywhere along the chain would pull that barking link open.
She grabbed a loose cargo strap to brace herself, listening to the surges of the Stormwalker for a moment. When she had its rhythm in her head, Deryn raised the axe in one hand, and brought it down just as the engines hit the peak of their roar… .
The chain split, whipping away too fast to see. As the suddenly freed walker staggered ahead, the links threaded through the metal ring at its waist, rattling like a Maxim gun. The loose end flailed for a few seconds, snapping wildly about the walker’s head and driving the startled lady boffin back inside.
But the chain was still attached to the left side of the sledge … and as the loose end slipped through the steel ring on the Stormwalker, the whole length flung itself back at Deryn.
She dove into the snow, and heard the metal whipping past overhead. It smacked against the cargo on the sledge, slashing through sacks of flour—a spray of white dust filled the air.
“BREAKING THE LINE.”
The chain dropped to the snow and slithered away, meekly following the staggering walker, its energy finally expended.
Deryn stood up, coughing out the dry taste of inhaled flour.
Something was nudging at her knee… .
The sledge was pushing her insistently, its speed building. But what was pulling it? Then she realized what had happened. The last jerk of the chain had got it started down the slope.
“Oh, that’s brilliant!” Deryn said, scrambling aboard the sledge. The shush of runners on the snow grew louder as she spat more flour from her mouth.
Before her the Stormwalker had come to a halt, facing away. Alek was waiting for her to climb back up the ladder.
The sledge was headed straight for the walker’s legs!
Standing up unsteadily on a bag of dried apricots, Deryn cupped her hands and yelled, “Dr. Barlow!”
No answer came, and no one poked their head from the hatchway. What were they doing in there? Playing Parcheesi?
The sledge was still building speed.
“Dr. Barlow!” she screamed again.
Finally a black bowler emerged from the hatch. Deryn waved her arms, trying to indicate the sledge, movement, and the general notion of destruction. The boffin’s eyes widened as she saw their recently freed cargo bearing down on them.
She disappeared again.
“About time,” Deryn said, crossing her arms.
It was lucky she’d scrambled aboard. The sledge was building momentum every second, already sliding faster than Deryn could have run in this snow. She grabbed the loose strap again, not wanting to fall and wind up a greasy spot in the sledge’s tracks.
The Stormwalker was finally moving again, taking a ponderous step forward. The machine wavered a bit, like a dim-witted beastie wondering whether to run from some predator.
Deryn frowned, hoping that they wouldn’t scamper off for the battle without her. But Alek didn’t seem like the type to leave one of his crew behind.
Dr. Barlow popped up again, and the walker’s engines roared to life. She was shouting down into the cabin, guiding Alek in some boffin-inspired strategy.
But the sledge was still catching up, building speed faster than the Stormwalker on the ice-crusted snow. Deryn looked up at the cargo towering over her. If the two giant objects collided, she was going to be right in the middle of it.
“Get going!” she cried, climbing higher on the pile.
The Stormwalker drew closer and closer, and Deryn realized that Dr. Barlow had gone barking mad. She wasn’t even trying to get out of the way. The walker was keeping a steady pace, just a squick slower than the sledge.