Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

a collection of a dozen clapboard buildings built up on three sides of a small clearing, its perimeter lit by lanterns hanging near each door. Not a large camp, but the long buildings could have been bunkhouses, each holding twenty or thirty men. A ferry cruiser hovered over the clearing.
    Annika recognized it. “That’s the airship we saw in Smoke Cove yesterday.”
    Mouth set in a thin line, David nodded. “Di Fiore’s.”
    Best not to return to Smoke Cove, then, even if they were closer to that settlement than they were to Vik. Though they could find safety with Valdís, di Fiore had several hundred laborers at the nearby rail camp. The man had already destroyed their airship, ordered his men to kill the fluyt’s crew. She doubted that he’d hesitate to kill them, too.
    They’d try to make it to Vik, then. Everyone from the airship would have headed in that direction, too—and Captain Vashon didn’t know di Fiore had been responsible for Phatéon ’s fall. They could regroup, figure out what to do.
    First, she and David had to get there.
    They couldn’t climb the icy cliffs. They didn’t dare try to cross the cove without a boat. They’d have to make their way through that camp.
    “There’s a watchman,” David said softly.
    Annika saw him, standing between two of the bunkhouses. He faced the clearing, his back to the cove. Her heart sank. The buildings didn’t form a circle around the clearing, but three sides, and the fourth side open. Though shadowed, the moonlight on the snow would reveal their movements. Even if they skirted around the camp, using the buildings for cover, he’d see them as soon as they ventured beyond the last bunkhouse.
    Was there anything to hide behind? She studied the open edge of the clearing, and her lips parted as she recognized one of the shadowed shapes. “Is that a two-seater balloon?”
    “Yes. With an open cart and a steam engine.”
    Blast. The cart would offer no protection and the sound of the engine would expose them long before it built up enough speed to fly away.
    David frowned. “What the hell is behind them?”
    In the dark, she couldn’t quite make them out. Three ambulatory machines, of some sort. Their shapes seemed familiar, but…
    Annika’s heart leapt. Astonishment stole her breath. “Trolls.”
    “What?”
    “Trolls. But with no skins, no disguise. That’s what’s underneath.” Her astonishment faded into dread. “Why do they have them?”
    David stared at her. “The trolls are real ?”
    “I told you.”
    “I thought it was just a story.”
    “Mostly. But stories are more frightening when there’s some truth to them.” And the terror was hers, now. “David, they must know about Hannasvik. They must have stolen these, killed everyone the same way as the sailors—”
    Annika had to stop herself. Whatever had happened, she couldn’t think of it now. She thought instead of the sailors on the fluyt. She thought of what would happen to David if they were discovered. Fear wouldn’t help her now. She needed anger. Resolve.
    She built up both. “We’ll take a troll. I can drive it.”
    “That’s not leaving quietly.”
    “If I’m in one of those, we won’t need to.” She caught his hand. “Listen.”
    His gaze on hers, he angled his head. She saw the moment he heard it—over the roar of the ocean, a distant barking. Dogs.
    “If we don’t take it, we’re not going to make it far.”
    He nodded. “How long will you need?”
    “After I’m inside, fifteen minutes to stoke the furnace and build up enough pressure.”
    “All right.”
    She hesitated. “If the watchman sees us—”
    “I know.” His face was grim. “I’ll do it.”
    Sick at heart, she nodded. They climbed down to the dock—out in the open but shadowed by the bulk of the whale. The angle of a nearby building concealed them from the watchman as they traversed the small rise between the water and the camp. Staying low, they crept quietly to the rear of a bunkhouse, Annika wincing at every faint crunch of snow. David crouched against the clapboard siding, shrugged out of his pack, and glanced down at the pistol holstered at his thigh.
    He couldn’t use it. The report would wake them all. He closed his eye, then looked to Annika. Wordlessly, he gave over the gun. Her throat tight, Annika took it.
    His chest rose on a deep breath, and for a long moment, he stared at his steel hand as if the contraption were alien to him. His mouth firmed as he stood. He