Aker grinned. “Stupid woman.” And he leapt forward, sword raised to strike.
“Full throttle!” Taziri shouted over the drone of the engine. The Halcyon roared louder and the hose yanked her to the left as it tried to straighten itself out with the increased air pressure, but she wrestled it down, falling to one knee to hold it steady. The jet of air shooting through the nozzle, through the electric arc, began to flash and woof as tiny fire balls formed in the compressed air stream. “Come on, come on! Now! Now!”
Aker winced at the blast of air in his face, but he took the last step toward her and swung his fiery blade at her neck.
The jet of compressed air fully ignited, transforming from an invisible wind into a jet of electric blue hellfire almost as long as the seireiken itself. The flash of light was so bright and hot that Taziri jerked back from it instinctively, falling back and to her side even as she pushed the blazing plasma torch up and away from her face. The scorching plasma stream blasted through the seireiken as easily as a knife through water, and the liquefied aetherium blade first bloated outward in soft metallic bubbles and then twisted apart as the end of the sword fell away from the hilt to drip and plop and splatter on the ground. Aker dropped the seireiken’s hilt as he threw up his hands to protect his face, and Taziri swung the plasma torch down to drench the entire sword in blue flame. The golden steel shriveled and faded to a dark gray puddle in a matter of seconds as a hot, foul cloud steamed up into the air.
For a moment, Taziri stared at the boiling puddle of aetherium on the ground and the roaring plume of scorching plasma in her hand, all dimmed and discolored through the thick lenses of her goggles. And then the Halcyon ’s engine sputtered and died.
The hose fell limp in her hands as the air jet whistled away to nothing.
Taziri released the switch and the hissing electric arc vanished. She dropped the melted nozzle and stood up, brushing the dust from her pants. Aker sat on the ground a few yards away, clutching his face and gasping for breath. His two men remained at the end of the train, frowning.
Bastet poked her head out the hatch. “What happened?”
“Get back inside!” Taziri pointed her brace-gun at the men. “And you two. You can go. Forget about your boss here and forget everything you just saw, too.”
The men didn’t move.
Bastet called out in Eranian to them.
Oh right. Wrong language. Taziri grimaced as the weight of her brace-gun began to ache in her shoulder.
Still the men didn’t move. One of them started to reload his pistol.
“No! I warned you!” Taziri yanked the trigger of her revolver. No bang. Not even a click. The trigger had jammed. Taziri stared at the useless lump of steel on her arm, and then she started banging her free hand on it as she pulled on the frozen trigger. “No, no, no! Dammit!”
The bounty hunter snapped his pistol shut and looked at her. Taziri blinked.
They’re both standing awfully close to the Halcyon. Maybe close enough.
“Bastet!” Taziri kept her eyes locked on the pistol rising to point at her heart. “Pull the big lever!”
“But you said-”
“Pull it now!”
A sharp clang echoed inside the locomotive and the outer wall of the Halcyon clicked and hissed and slammed outward on its hinges, right down onto the two bounty hunters. The unfolding wing smashed both of them in the heads and shoulders, sending them sprawling to the ground. They moaned and rolled over, crawled out from under the wing, and scrambled away across the rail yard.
Taziri blew out the breath she was holding. “Thank you! All clear. You can push the lever back into place now.”
As the Halcyon ’s wings slowly retracted to restore its train-like camouflage, Kenan jumped down from the hatch and walked over to her. He nudged the gray puddle on the ground with the toe of his boot, and the entire puddle shifted as a solid mass. “Already cold,” he said. “What does that mean?”
“It means the souls are all free,” Taziri said. She looked up, half expecting to see faces or heavenly lights all around them, but there was nothing but the freight cars and the clear blue sky. “Don Lorenzo is free.”
“If you say so.” Kenan paced over to the man in green and kicked him in the leg. “Hey you. Get up. You’re under arrest for the murder of Lorenzo Quesada.”
A deep thud shuddered through the earth and Taziri turned to see a tall slender man with jet black skin standing by the Halcyon ’s nose. He wore a simple white tunic belted with gold, shining gold arm-bands, gold rings, gold hair-beads, and a small golden heart on a cord around his neck. His face was hidden behind a black mask sculpted like the face of a dog or jackal. The straight black staff in his hand rested on the ground. “I see you have all arrived safely,” he said. “My task is complete.”
“Anubis!” Bastet leapt from the hatch. “You idiot! You brought the wrong ones!”
But the young man thumped his staff on the earth and his entire body burst apart into a cloud of aether that vanished on the hot wind.
“Oh no you don’t!” Bastet glanced over her shoulder as she pulled her cat mask down over her face. “Good bye, captain! It was nice to meet you!” And she rippled apart into a sparkling white mist.
Taziri waved to the girl who was no longer there, but a cry of pain drew her attention back to the yard. She jogged to the end of the freight cars and looked out at the station. The Bantu and the Songhai were still trading punches, but had left a trail of bodies across the platform. Behind and around the station office she could still see the crowd of gawkers watching the morning’s entertainment.
Then a shout went up among the onlookers. They all turned to the east end of the street, some pointing, but most shuffling in the opposite direction. Then more and more of them began backing away from the east end of the street, moving faster and faster out of sight.
Taziri squinted where they were pointing and called over her shoulder. “Hey Kenan! You might want to reload your gun.” She pulled a screwdriver from her pocket and started fiddling with her brace-gun to unjam the trigger mechanism.
“Why?”
“It looks like your prisoner has some more friends.”
Chapter 28. Qhora
They hurried along the edge of the street, trailing Khai and his column of green-robed swordsmen. The Aegyptians broke into a sprint shortly after leaving the library, and now they all raced across the city, crashing through the early morning press of people and animals.
“My lady,” Mirari said, “should I run ahead to warn the captain? She may be in danger.”
“No. These men might follow you, or they might hear you once you arrive.” Qhora grimaced at the thought of Taziri alone in the rail yard, unprotected and unsuspecting. “If the captain sits still and remains quiet locked inside the Halcyon, she probably has a better chance of remaining hidden.”
I hope.
“And what exactly are we going to do when we arrive at the yard and find a company of Osirians, and the Bantu, and the Songhai, and God knows who else between us and the train?” Salvator asked. “There are only four of us.”
A high-pitched cry drew Qhora’s gaze up to the pale blue sky and she squinted at the tiny black shape wheeling high overhead. “Five.”
“We need a plan,” the Italian insisted.
“You’re welcome to make one,” Qhora said. “But we’re going to save the captain, one way or another. She and I are both going home to our children.”
They ran on, and Qhora found herself dashing through markets and past fountains that she had no memory of. On the night they arrived in the city, Salvator had led them to the docks to hire his thugs and to await the steamer from Carthage, and she had been in no mood for sight-seeing. But now she had no idea how far they were from their destination, nor what landmarks would announce their arrival.