Lindsay Buroker - Flash Gold

“We’re not going across the ice, are we?” Cedar asked.

The lake stretched a couple miles to the north and south, but the trail led straight across, where less than a mile separated the shorelines.

“Fastest route,” Kali said. “It’ll be thick enough to support us.” She hoped.

The river had been no problem, but the ice might not be as dense in the center of the lake. Numerous scrapes in the snow from sled runners proved many dog teams had traveled this way, but her steam sled had more mass.

“That’s not my concern.” Cedar stretched a hand toward the bare, open expanse. “There’s no cover. If we are attacked, we’ll be vulnerable.”

Kali checked behind them. The first dog sled team had reached the top of the ridge. “This is the race-approved route. If we go around, we’ll be breaking our own trail and dodging trees and shrubs all the way. It’ll add at least an hour, probably more.”

“The race money will do you no good if you’re captured. Or killed.”

“An odd attitude from someone whose payday hinges on our victory.”

Cedar sighed. “Fine. Go.”

They proceeded onto the ice. Kali almost wished he had not brought the threat up, for she spent the first couple of minutes with her nose to the sky, trying to watch the cloudless expanse in every direction. A jolt and an angry grind brought her attention back to the trail. She had run over the end of a log hidden in the snow and ice.

She decided to leave the sky-watching to Cedar. If she tipped the sled on the slick surface, righting it would prove a tremendous chore, and the fire in the furnace would probably go out.

Ice cracked and groaned as they neared the center of the lake. Nothing out of the ordinary, Kali told herself. It would be a month or more before anything thawed around these parts. In her mind, she knew that, but she could not keep from feeling nervous. They were now an equal distance from both shorelines, so there was no quick route to escape if something happened.

Kali nudged the lever forward a little more, increasing speed. Black smoke billowed from the stack.

“There they are,” Cedar said.

He spoke so calmly, she thought he meant something innocuous, but, when he pointed with his rifle, she spotted the “they” of which he spoke. Her stomach sank.

The airship glided over the trees at the southern end of the long lake, and its oblong shadow spilled onto the ice. By daylight, the massive balloon holding it aloft was just as dark as it had been by night. Only a great white cougar skull painted on one side interrupted the blackness of the material. The wooden hull, too, bore black paint, giving the ship a nefarious bent.

Despite the threat the craft represented, Kali found herself longing for the chance to inspect it from the inside. She had read about airships, and pored over schematics, but she had never been on one. Oh, to see its engines….

She shook her head and told herself to concentrate.

There was no question about the ship’s course: it veered toward them, a route that would allow it to cut them off.

Kali made a guess as to its speed and hers. “It’ll intercept us two hundred meters before we reach the trees.”

“While I appreciate the math that must have gone into that estimate,” Cedar said, “it’ll be in firing range well before then.”

“Oh. Right.”

She nudged the lever again, pushing the sled to full speed. It would not be fast enough.

As the airship closed, the crew scurrying about on the deck-readying the weapons for battle-came into view. Cannons and harpoon launchers glinted, reflecting the sun’s rays.

A cannon boomed. The black, round projectile lofted from the bow of the ship and smashed into the frozen lake a dozen yards away. It crashed through, hurling water and ice into the air. Shards pelted the sled, and Kali lifted a hand to protect her face.

“Range-finding shot,” Cedar said, voice calm, as he continued to jog alongside the sled.

“The commentary is great, but a plan would be better,” Kali said. “Do you want to come up with something brilliant or should I?”

“We can’t do anything to harm it from down here. We can just hope to dodge fire long enough to reach shore and maybe find protection from the aerial assault. Though those branches don’t offer much cover this time of year. And there are dozens of people up there, so they could just come down and hunt us on foot.”

“I see,” she said. “Your vote is for me to come up with something brilliant.”

The firing of another cannon drowned out his snort, but she read his expression easily enough. She tweaked her controls to vent more smoke from the stack, hoping it would obscure the sled’s exact position from above.

“Maybe we can tear up the balloon somehow,” Kali said. “That would steal their gas and force them to land.”

“With what? We could fire a thousand bullets into a balloon that size before it made a difference.”

Kali grumbled, knowing he was right. “Letting out the air would be too slow. You’re right. Well, not air. Gas. Hydrogen. That’s what they usually use to achieve lift, right? Because it’s lighter than air?”

Cedar gave her a blank stare.

“Never mind. I’m getting an idea. Come drive. Let me see if I can rustle up something.”

Despite his pessimism thus far, Cedar took the steering controls without comment. Kali climbed past the steam engine and clambered onto the cargo area up front. She dug into their supplies. Her knuckles brushed a lumpy bag. The sugar. Yes, that would help. She nodded to herself as her idea solidified.

More cannons boomed. The sled lurched, nearly flinging Kali from her perch. She caught a strap in time to keep from falling off.

“What’re you doing?” she yelled.

A cannonball slammed into the ice a yard to the right.

“Zigzagging our path so we’ll be harder to target,” Cedar said.

“Warn a girl next time, will you?” She’d make a damned easy target if she fell off and got herself run over.

The sled lurched again.

More prepared, Kali clung to the packs and wedged her boot into the gap between the smokestack and the engine casing. She dug into the supplies again, this time pulling out her jar of kerosene.

“If my idea works, we won’t have fuel for a lamp tonight,” she announced as she poured sugar into the jar to thicken the liquid. The wobbling and veering sled made it hard to keep her hand steady, and kerosene sloshed over the edge more than once. Wind whipped hair into her eyes, adding to the challenge.

“What idea?” Cedar called. “What’re you making?”

The sled swerved left, and she almost lost the jar. A cannonball slammed into the ice where they would have been if Cedar had not turned in time. She gulped and decided not to yell at him.

“I can’t dodge these indefinitely,” he added.

Kali tore the empty sugar sack into strips and dampened one with kerosene. She stoppered the jar, leaving her impromptu fuse dangling. The roar of cannons was much closer now, and the booms came more frequently. A ball pounded down ahead of them. A jagged fracture formed in the ice, quickly turning into a fissure dozens of meters long. Maybe longer.

“Stop!” Kali cried.

Cedar cursed, but figured out how to throw on the brakes. “We’re sitting ducks now. Unless we can go back.”

The airship blotted out the sun as it drew closer. For the moment, nobody was firing. Why bother? They could surely see the fissure blocking the path.

“No,” Kali said. “We’re surrendering.”

“What?”

“They want me alive, I’m told.” She scrambled off the sled, skidding when she hit the ice, and thrust the jar into his hands. “Can you throw as accurately as you shoot?”