Devon Monk - Tin Swift

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.

Cedar caught a glimpse of Seldom, pinned down by gunfire behind a stack of crates.

Seldom looked across the smoke and fire, saw him with Hink across his shoulder. Cedar met his gaze. He didn’t know if the captain would make it. Didn’t know if Molly still breathed.

Even across the bloody field, Seldom seemed to understand.

“What are you thinking, brother?” Wil asked, his shoulder set tight against the sideboard of the wagon they had ducked behind.

“I’m going to set Hink down. Then I’m going to go get Molly.”

“Good plan,” Wil said. “But mine’s better.” Wil ducked around the wagon and ran for Molly.

Cedar starting swearing and took aim on the men who rose up to fire on his brother.

He had six shots and made them all count.

Wil bent, smoke shifted to cover his exact whereabouts. But he’d have to stand to get Molly out of there. And he’d be an easy target.

“Damn hot-blooded idiot,” Cedar cursed. “I will not watch you die again.”

He shifted so he could lower Captain Hink.

The roar of an engine right over his head drowned out the sound of gunfire and threw chunks of debris everywhere. Then that ship let loose a glass globe. Pretty. Familiar. Green with a silver cap to it.

When that globe hit the ground it shattered. Wasn’t anything more than instinct that made Cedar close his eyes and turn away. Good thing he did too. The flash of light that exploded from the globe was unholy bright white tinged with the strange green of glim. The combination was so bright it blinded.

Men cried out, unable to see, unable to shoot.

Cedar squinted, his vision foggy and fouled even though he’d had his eyes screwed tight.

Walking across the field, with another green globe in one hand and a tinkered blunderbuss in the other, dark goggles firmly over his eyes, was Alun Madder.

Above him hovered a wooden airship that resembled a child’s top with fans stuck out every which way.

Bryn Madder leaned out the door of the thing and cranked a Gatling gun into the crouching soldiers.