“Flor!” Another cry rose up through the night, a woman’s this time. “Flor, get your Revo ass over here!”
She wished it took something more than an endwig assault to inspire the use of her chosen guild.
The flickering light of Nora’s campfire streamed through the trees in shifting beams. Florence’s ears picked up the chaotic charge of the other endwig tearing through the forest behind her. Ahead was the small train, already hissing with steam.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Nora screamed as Florence broke through the tree line that was almost on top of the tracks themselves. She held out her hand. “That type of explosion is sure to draw out the endwig.”
“What do you think I used ‘that type of explosion’ on?” Florence screamed back. There wasn’t any need to speak so loudly or violently; Nora’s face was less than half a peca away from hers as the other woman hoisted her into the train car. But it certainly felt good to do.
“Are you all right?” Derek asked.
Florence was relieved to see her split-second judgment call of not heading back to where she’d last seen him along the river proved sound. The man was too smart to wait for her and it blossomed a newfound appreciation for him in a hot flush against her chest. The feeling was equally a product of the near-death situation and her adrenaline, but she knew she’d truly been ruined by Arianna when cold pragmatism was suddenly the sexiest thing in the world to her.
“We’re not going fast enough.” Florence reached for the leather strap of canisters and explosives wrapped around her body, her mind whirring with all the ways to fend off the endwig. “They’ll be on us.” She handed them each disk bombs. “Press, throw, push magic in to make heat.”
There wasn’t time to explain the mechanics of using magic to heat molten gold and start a carefully calculated chemical reaction. She just needed them to do as they were told. Florence had sat back long enough. Life or death: this was the line she was meant to walk.
The first endwig launched itself from between the trees, springing off them and leaving dark grooves in the bark. From the vantage of the train car, Florence had just enough height to stare down the barrel of her gun at the monster’s outstretched neck. It was sent tumbling on the ground, all momentum lost, as she killed it with a pull of the trigger.
“Good shot.” Nora’s praise was lost.
“Derek, bomb!” Florence barked, pointing to where she wanted the explosion. He followed her order as two other endwig lunged from the darkness. The moment his hands were free, she passed him the rifle. “Load it with canisters from the green box.”
“Which green box?” he called back.
“The one on the left.” Florence fired another shot from her revolver.
“They’re coming from the front!” Nora screamed over the crescendo of the engine gaining speed. On cue, the train lurched as an endwig was splattered to a bloody mess on the point of the engine’s pilot.
“Bloody cogs,” Florence cursed. The Vicar Alchemist had sent her to protect the mission as the Revolver, but one of her wasn’t going to be enough. “I’m going to the engine.”
“What are we going to do?” The usually self-sure Nora had the face of a cornered hare.
“You’re going to fight.” Florence passed her a weapon.
“I’ve never shot a gun before.”
“Now is a great time to learn.”
“I’m an Alchemist!”
Seriously, Florence was a breath away from shooting the woman herself. “You’re dead if you don’t adapt! There’s three more bombs exactly like the ones you just used, right there. Just fend them off until the train gets up to speed. But don’t use any other disks.”
Florence had no more time to waste as the train lurched again. They just had to survive until the train reached full speed. For all the endwig were, they certainly couldn’t keep up with a locomotive.
She hoped.
The wind whipped her hair around her face as she stuck her head from the train car. Florence reached out for the ladder to the right of the door, scaling up before another endwig could emerge. She swung up just in time as an explosion nearly blew her foot clean off.
“By the five guilds, you two only had three bombs!” she screamed over the wind, not knowing if they could hear. “Ration them a bit!”
Standing, Florence looked in horror at the tracks ahead. Dozens of endwig lined the path, running eagerly to meet the train. She loaded six canisters at once.
Jumping to the tender, Florence lost her footing atop the moving train car. A nail snapped clean off as she sought a grip that would prevent her from being thrown to certain death. If she fell now, she would never get back on the vessel. She’d be torn limb from limb.
Gritting her teeth, Florence rose to her knees, shooting two endwig in the process. She wedged herself between two grooves on the top of the tender. Blood pooled around her shins as she dug them into the metal for a grip where there was none, but she was stable enough to take aim, and that meant she could open fire.
Five shots down, and Florence reloaded her gun. Endwig came relentlessly like a never-ending nightmare. But the train didn’t gain any more speed. She repeated the process, waiting for the vessel to be like her bullets, whizzing through the night at deadly speeds.
