Conspiracy

Chapter 12

Akstyr joined Books in the dirigible’s navigation cabin. Maps were tented over levers, and open manuals sprawled across gauges, leaving little of the control panel visible. Books was hunched over it, scrutinizing the papers so hard that he didn’t notice someone had come in. Akstyr hoped there wasn’t a problem with the dirigible. The pilot had escaped while they’d been rummaging around in the mines, so there was nobody to turn to for help.

“I’ve been studying the implants,” Akstyr said. “It’s hard because they try to leap into your skin when you touch them. It’s real dangerous of me even to look at them, but I’ve got some ideas.”

He waited for a response-he wouldn’t have minded a little praise or encouragement for taking on the difficult task-Books didn’t acknowledge him.

Whatever. Akstyr sat down in the co-pilot’s chair. Darkness had come hours earlier, and he couldn’t see much outside the forward window. After a few minutes, Books stood tall, his head nearly brushing the ceiling, and rubbed the back of his neck. He yawned, spotted Akstyr, and jumped in surprise, cracking his head on the low ceiling.

“You didn’t notice me come in?” Akstyr asked. “Truly? Sicarius would have yelled at you. Well, not yelled but glared in that icy ball-withering way of his.”

“Probably true.”

“You figure out why those stowaways were lurking in our engine room?”

“I have several hypotheses, and none of them would be good for the team. There’s little we can do about it now.” Books rubbed his lips and frowned at the papers as if they were wayward students, running around one of his classrooms and ignoring his teachings. “I believe we’ve arrived at our destination in the Scarlet Pass.”

“Then why do you look so worried?”

Books leaned forward and peered into the darkness below. “Landing on a mountain ledge in the dark presents a challenge.”

“You landed us by the mine.”

“In a flat, stump-filled field with good visibility, yes,” Books said.

“If you crash, the blasting sticks will probably blow us up.”

“If I crash… it probably won’t matter.”

Akstyr leaned forward to peer out the window. Night had fallen, and snow drifted from the dark sky. He could make out the white tips of mountains in the background and a cliff nearby-a big cliff. What might have been railway tracks ran along a ledge on the cliff. To the side, the ground dropped away into a canyon. Nothing looked like a promising landing spot for a dirigible.

“Wait, why do we have to land?” Akstyr asked.

Books was muttering something about a lack of running lights, and he started to glare at Akstyr-he probably had a lecture on his lips-but he paused thoughtfully. “That’s… actually a good point.”

“You needn’t sound shocked.”

“Go see if there’s some rope on board. I think I can hover in place while you climb down to the ground and set the explosives.”

“Nice of you to volunteer me for that.” Akstyr had been thinking along those lines anyway, but didn’t like someone assuming he wanted to risk himself.

“I have the most experience piloting the ship, so it’s logical for me to stay here.”

“A day at the controls doesn’t make you an expert.” Akstyr said, though he pushed himself to his feet. A few minutes later, he returned with a coil of rope and two bundles of explosives. “I’m leaving half of the blasting sticks here. I don’t think I can slide down a rope with the whole box. Besides, if I get myself killed, you may need the rest to try again.”

“A surprisingly noble sentiment.”

“Don’t get used to it. I’m feeling sentimental because I’m about to put on a rucksack full of volatile explosives, and I know I’ll be dead if I fall or trip down there.” Akstyr meant to sound nonchalantly unconcerned, but it didn’t quite work.

“We’re hovering in place now.” For the first time, Books looked away from the viewing window and the controls to regard Akstyr. “Be careful down there.”

“Obviously,” Akstyr said. “But, look, if anything… happens, could you let my mother know I died heroically or something?”

“Your mother? I didn’t know you had one.”

“I didn’t know I had one any more either, but she found me a couple of days ago. I guess ’cause we’ve been mentioned some in the papers.” Akstyr shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. She wasn’t around for most of my life, so I don’t care what she thinks. Forget it. Don’t worry about telling her anything.”

“I will locate her and let her know you died well, should it come to that.”

“Whatever.” Akstyr headed for the door, but paused with his hand on the jamb. “Books, do you think… Do people ever really change? Or if someone says they’ve changed, do you think it’s more likely that they’re angling for something? Trying to use you somehow.”

Books considered him for a long moment, and Akstyr had the feeling he was being judged. He was about to growl a, “Never mind,” and leave when Books spoke.

“I suppose my answer depends on what sort of change you have in mind, but if people are properly motivated, or deeply affected by something they experience, they can change. That doesn’t mean they’re not still angling for something. The most charitable people in the world are choosing altruism, not because it’s a noble endeavor, but because being noble fulfills a need within them.”

Akstyr struggled to find his answer in Books’s speech. He should have been more specific. “So if a mother who abandoned her child ten years ago suddenly wants to reconnect, it might be because it’d… fulfill some need within her?” He struggled not to roll his eyes at the mawkish language. “Not because she wanted something specifically from him?”

“It’s possible. Maybe she’s always had regrets about leaving you. Maybe she’s realizing that, having given up on her child, she’ll have no one to care for her as she grows older. Maybe she wants to make amends for past grievances before it’s too late.”

Akstyr scratched at the doorjamb. Yes, some of that made sense, he thought.

“You might as well talk to her and give her a chance. You might regret not doing so later. When she’s gone…” Books’s focus turned inward, and he no longer seemed to be seeing Akstyr. “Trust me, it’s better to find peace with family while they’re still alive. You never know when the world will take someone from you.”

“Or when you’ll blow yourself up,” Akstyr murmured and walked out.

When he’d gathered his supplies and checked five times to make sure the blasting sticks were secured in his rucksack, he headed for a hatch in the floor of the engine room. Snowflakes blew past the opening. Their intensity had increased in the last few minutes, and Akstyr could barely see the massive cliff wall a few meters away from the dirigible. Its jagged contours, carved from the mountain with pickaxes and blasting sticks, had a dark, ominous quality to them. Night and the blowing snow made the ground and the tracks hard to see as well. Books better keep the dirigible in place; Akstyr wanted to land on the ledge, not in the ravine next to it.

A gust of wind came up from below, hurling snow into the engine room.

“Great time for rappelling,” Akstyr muttered, hooking a lantern over his arm.

He stuffed the ex-pilot’s pistol into his belt. He doubted he’d need it, but if he got lost, he might need to shoot it off so Books could find him.

After checking the knot securing his rope, Akstyr dropped the coil into the darkness. It bounced and wobbled in the wind. He tugged gloves on and slipped through the hatchway, taking the rope in both hands. Wind battered him, rocking him and spinning him in the air. He inched his way down, squinting against the sideways snow dashing at his eyes. Though glass protected the interior of his lantern, the whipping wind found cracks between the panes, and the tiny flame bobbed and flickered. With his hands occupied on the rope, Akstyr couldn’t do anything about it.

Relief flowed into him when the ground came into view. The feeling doubled in intensity when his boots rested upon it. A scattering of snow brightened the dark rocks, and flakes were starting to stick to the metal tracks. All that mattered to Akstyr was that he was in the right place. The ledge supporting him was only ten feet wide, so it wouldn’t take much to block the railway.

Coldness numbed his fingers, and shivers coursed through him, so he hurried to unpack the bundles of blasting sticks. He lifted the lantern and walked along the cliff, hunting for a crevice in which he could thrust the explosives.

A light winked at the edge of his vision.

“What the-” Akstyr lowered his lantern and scanned the darkness farther down the railway. He saw nothing but white snow swirling against a black backdrop. Maybe he’d been imagining things. Who could possibly be out there in the middle of the night?

No one, he thought, but he shuttered his lantern anyway and resumed his search by hand. Trying to hide was probably pointless-lights burned behind the portholes in the dirigible above him-but Akstyr felt safer without the lantern dangling from his arm like a beacon. Or a target.

He found a likely crevice and eased the first bundle of blasting sticks inside of it. A gun fired, and he almost dropped the second bundle.

Akstyr pressed his back against the cliff, sucking in his belly. He hadn’t heard the bullet slam into anything nearby, but that didn’t mean people weren’t shooting at him.

A dog bayed, its deep voice echoing from the cliffs.

“Hunters?” Akstyr wondered.

It seemed like a bizarre thing to do at night, especially in a snowstorm, but he’d heard that was when rural bumpkins went out to get raccoons. Maybe the dog’s owner didn’t care about Akstyr or the dirigible. Maybe the person hadn’t even seen him. Either way, hurrying seemed like a good idea.

When no second shot came, Akstyr knelt again, slipping the second bundle of blasting sticks into the crevice. He removed his gloves, double-checked the placement, then started unwinding the fuse.

The dog let out another undulating bay. Akstyr paused. Was it closer this time? The bays echoed from the cliff and mountain walls across the ravine, making it difficult to discern the source, but he had a feeling the hound and its master were on the trail up to the pass.

When the dog stopped to catch its breath or scratch a flea or whatever dogs did, a man’s voice sounded in the silence. Someone talking. Distance jumbled the words, and Akstyr couldn’t understand them, but another man responded.

Backpedaling, Akstyr strung out the fuse as quickly as he could. Another shot fired. This time it clanged off the rock face above his head. He dropped to his belly and tossed his raccoon-hunting theory into the ravine. These people were after him.

Another rifle cracked, though Akstyr didn’t hear the bullet hit anything. The men had to be guessing at his location and hoping to get lucky. Or maybe they were drunk.

The dog bayed again, closer this time. Its deep booming voice made it sound big. Very big.

Assuming the men had to reload, Akstyr scrambled to his feet again. He thought about using his own pistol, but he only had the one shot, and he couldn’t see the men in the darkness. He returned to reeling out the fuse.

Books had measured out over fifty feet of it when setting things up for Akstyr. With guns firing in his direction, it seemed more like five hundred feet. He dared not cut it short though, not when he had to climb to safety before the explosives went off.

Finally, he reached the end. He hated to expose himself by opening the shutter of the lantern, but he had no choice. He unfastened the clasp and thrust the end of the fuse into the flame.

A gun fired, and the lantern was ripped from his hands.

Akstyr stumbled backward onto his butt. He snarled, prepared to spew out every curse he knew, but the flame had caught. Orange sparks danced at the end of the fuse.

Akstyr leaped to his feet and sprinted toward the spot where he’d left the rope. The snow had picked up, and he couldn’t see it. He tripped over a rock. Cursed ancestors, he could barely see where he was going.

Another shot fired, the bullet whizzing past his ear.

“Quit shooting at me, you ball-licking street-kissers!” As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt stupid. He felt even stupider when laughter floated up the trail. And that cussed dog was getting closer too.

Hands outstretched, Akstyr forced himself to ease along at a less reckless pace. He swatted only air though. Where was that ancestors-blighted rope?

The dirigible, you idiot, he told himself, and looked up. There. A square of light stood out against the dark hull. The rope dangled down from the hatch, swaying with the wind and disappearing into the darkness, but he could guess its final position now.

Akstyr jogged toward it. Something clacked behind him-dog claws on granite. Snarls and snapping teeth sounded, mere feet away.

A huge, dark shape barreled out of the darkness and leaped for Akstyr. There was no time to grab his pistol and shoot it. He jumped to the side and kicked out. The dog twisted in the air and would have caught him with those snapping teeth, but his boot connected. It was enough to unbalance the animal, but the dog was still snarling when it landed behind him.

Akstyr sprinted the last ten feet and found the rope. Ice and snow caked the cold twine, making the grip slippery and biting into his bare hands. He climbed with mulish determination and dared not look down to check on the dog.

“What’d he do?” a man shouted.

Fool that he was, Akstyr stopped. He’d only climbed a few feet and was far from safe, but if they put out the fuse, then all this would have been a waste of time.

The two rifle slingers had stopped on the ledge, and one crouched, staring at the flame zipping along the fuse. Both men carried lanterns, so Akstyr could make out faces and clothing; but he didn’t recognize either person, and neither wore the uniform of a soldier beneath his parka. There was no time to stop and ask who they were. He tightened his grip on the ice-slick rope with his left hand and pulled out his pistol with his right.

A shape blurred out of the darkness toward him. The dog.

His first instinct was to shoot it, but he hesitated, thinking he needed to save the bullet for the man standing over his fuse. His hesitation cost him, and the dog reached him, jaws snapping. Akstyr tried to dodge aside, but he couldn’t maneuver while hanging from the rope. Sharp fangs pierced his calf, slicing through clothing to gouge into flesh and muscle. He gritted his teeth against the pain, but the weight of the dog, hanging from his leg, almost tore him from the rope. New pain erupted in his shoulder as opposing forces pulled at him. Determination to hang on surged through him, but, even so, his grip slipped, and he inched down the rope.

With his free hand, Akstyr slammed the butt of the pistol into the dog’s head. He tucked his free leg up and kicked at the beast’s belly. The combined effort finally convinced it to let go. A fresh wave of agony washed over Akstyr, as more of his flesh was torn away when the dog fell. He forced himself to focus on the men again.

One was kicking at the fuse, trying to stomp out the flame before it reached the crevice. Akstyr lifted his pistol, struggling to aim while the twisting, swinging rope fought against him. No time for lining up a shot. He fired, and hoped.

The man stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder. His lantern dropped to the ground and went out. His comrade reached for him, arms outstretched, and Akstyr caught a glimpse of the back of the man’s hand. There, highlighted by the lantern light, was a brand. Akstyr couldn’t make out the details, but only gang members from Stumps had such marks emblazoned on their hands.

“Akstyr,” came Books’s voice from above. “Get out of there!”

Yes, right. Explosives. Akstyr tried to holster his pistol, fumbled it, and simply dropped it. He climbed as fast as he could, trying to ignore the injured leg.

A gun fired, and new pain ripped through him, searing his shoulder. Then a boom echoed through the mountains, and an ominous rumble welled up from below. A wave of force struck Akstyr like a battering ram.

All he could think of was to hang onto the rope with all of his strength as he flew through the air. Snow streaked sideways through his vision, and he lost track of whether he was facing up, down, or somewhere in between. The rope ran out of room to swing and snapped to a halt with a jerk that nearly tore his shoulders from their sockets.

One hand slipped from the rope, and he dangled helplessly by the other. He glimpsed tons and tons of rock sloughing into the ravine beneath him. Lest he join it, he flailed to recapture the rope with fingers gone numb from the cold. He finally got both hands back on it, but it was swinging back the other way. Akstyr cringed, anticipating another jerky stop, but the rope started rising. That motion quelled the fierce swaying. Up above, Books straddled the hatchway as he pulled the rope up. Weary and hurt, Akstyr simply hung on. The rocks were still shifting and falling below, throwing a cloud of dust into the air. The men were gone. If the railway tracks were still there, they were buried beneath rubble.

Even with Books’s help, Akstyr struggled to claw his way back into the engine room. As soon as he had the floor beneath him, he collapsed.

Books reached out a hand. “All you all right?”

“I got shot and bit,” Akstyr snarled, rejecting the help. “What do you think?”

Books pulled up the remaining rope, coiled it, and shut the hatch. “That if you can complain about it in complete, albeit grammatically questionable, sentences, you’ll be fine.”

Akstyr scarcely heard him. His mind was whirring at the revelation that those had been gang members. They hadn’t cared about the dirigible or the plan to close the pass; they’d just wanted him. They must have been trying to collect on his new bounty, but how could they have known he’d be up there?

It took a moment, and then realization came like a shot to the head. His mother. He’d mentioned to her where he’d be going. “Idiot,” he whispered to himself.

“What?” Books asked.

Akstyr growled and sat up to investigate his wounds. The shoulder stung, but the bullet had only grazed him. On the other hand, the dog bite was ragged and deep. He hoped it wouldn’t get infected. He didn’t have a good history of healing infections. He wasn’t even sure if he could concentrate well enough to heal normal cuts with pain distracting him. Another disgusted growl rumbled in his throat, and he flopped back onto the floor. “They were waiting for me, Books.”

“Yes, I apologize for not coming to your aid. I was in the navigation cabin, focusing on not bumping into that cliff, and I didn’t hear the gunshots at first. Who were they? Soldiers?”

“Not soldiers,” Akstyr said and debated whether to share more. Maybe he should pretend he had no idea who they were and what they’d been doing up there. Otherwise, he’d have to admit there was a bounty on his head and that he’d foolishly told his mother about some of the team’s plans. It’d be best to feign ignorance. Except he might need the group’s help to take care of the Madcats, especially now that it didn’t look like he’d be getting out of the city any time soon. “They were from the gangs, from the city. They were after me specifically.”

Books frowned. “Why?”

“The Madcats have a bounty on my head.”

“How would they know you were here? You didn’t tell anyone about our mission, did you?”

Akstyr’s lips twisted. “Just my mother.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. All she wanted from the beginning was to get a piece of the money on my head. I’m a slagging fool for thinking…” Akstyr snorted, wishing he hadn’t asked those dumb questions about people changing. He’d let Books witness his naivete. “It doesn’t matter now. Pieces of that pass blew so high that they’ll be splashing down in the Gulf. Those boys won’t be trouble again.” Unfortunately, there were a lot of other people in that gang.

“Did you tell your mother any other details of our mission?” Books asked.

“No, I didn’t tell her details at all. I just said I’d either be at the pass or Forkingrust.”

Books frowned. “So, it’s possible she sent people here and to Forkingrust where the rest of the team is.”

“I didn’t say anything about Sicarius or the others.”

“I see. You’d only betray them to bounty hunters, not your mother.”

Akstyr’s leg was throbbing, and he was busy worrying about the Madcats, so it took him a moment to grasp what Books was talking about. A chill stampeded down his spine. Books knew what he’d done. Did the whole team know? “I…”

Books’s lips were pursed in disapproval. “Your bounty hunter buddy decided he’d rather have Sicarius on his good side than be on yours. He shared the tale of how you approached him.”

“I didn’t mean for it to make trouble,” Akstyr said. “I was just trying to get some money. I wasn’t even going to tell him where Sicarius really was.”

“Oh, how noble. You weren’t going to put us all at risk, but you were going to steal from someone else.”

“It wouldn’t be stealing if he was greedy enough to fall for it!”

Books stood up, disgust curling his lips. “Disregard what I said before. Most people never change.”

He climbed the ladder, taking his lantern with him, and left Akstyr in the dark.