Chapter 4: The Shipyard

  The taste of Tasshun’s blood settled in Rasshun’s mouth. Still fresh. Salty, putrid, but delicious. It sent a pleased rumble through him.

  Sand tumbled away, rushing against Rasshun’s muscles. Elara groaned, turning over, away from him and the smoldering fire. A sliver of heat hit his back, the sun inching over the horizon, shaded by dark, billowing clouds.

  His scales prickled. He hoped the storm would pass over quickly.

  They had rested at the base of the crags, across the desert channel between the ranges, east of a delta. There was no sign of the Fire Wheel anywhere. Not a camp or a soldier. Landships rolled far away, out in the desert and open land, but were nowhere near. The mountains rose above Rasshun and Elara, their shadows fading in the overcast from the clouds.

  Rasshun sighed. Just a little further. He was close. So close.

  “The dwarves have two walls around their mining camp, one blocking the Wastes and the other the mountains,” Elara said. A piece of meat sizzled over the fire, which she turned with her knife. “They call it the Unker-yarda.”

  Rasshun gulped down his dried pork. “What will we do to get in?”

  Elara shrugged, pulling the food from the fire.

  “I have a way,” she said, “Don’t worry.”

  “If we don’t make it through?”

  “We will, that’s the plan.”

  Elara rolled her dice in the sand. They hit twelve, six and six.

  “It’s a gamble, but I intend to win.”

  -

  Soon, they made it to the gate.

  Between the valley walls, a patchwork of metal plates all melted together into a tall, unavoidable wall, with a single, lonesome steel gate locked in the center. Dwarves marched atop the battlements, clad in black armor, ten at a time, keeping watch of the Wastes. Beyond the wall, three towers poked up, misshaped, shaking and rumbling as if each had a great beast in their chambers roaring to break free.

  “Landships,” Elara said, “They’re our way in. Follow me.”

  Elara jumped up from behind the sand dune and led Rasshun away from the front gates toward the crags along the wall. A dim glare beamed off the metal, burning Rasshun’s snout. How worse would it have been if the sun fully burst through the veil of clouds?

  The scent of dwarf seeped through the cracks and crevices of the walls. There must have been hundreds inside. Only a foolish dragon would make himself known to them.

  Or a desperate one.

  Elara pointed up at the gate. “See those hinges?” she said, “When the ship rolls out, they’ll open these doors up. There’ll be a space here between the hinges and the wall. As soon as it opens, follow me. If you’re caught, I’m not coming back for you.”

  Rasshun’s scales stiffened, but he agreed to what Elara said. He could get through, that would be simple—it was the dwarves that made him hesitate. Most of them wore the same uniform that the soldiers in the desert had: long black chainmail tunics, covered with a brown cloak to protect against the sun, ornamented with red stripes and golden emblems depicting dragons or the sun.

  Fire Wheel uniforms.

  Rasshun shuddered.

  Metal components creaked and clanged together, echoing across the plateau. Both doors pushed outward, sliding against the packed sand. One of the tall, misshapen towers inside roared like dragon fire, billowing hot smoke into the air. Its wide, flat armor shook, layers of long settled dust dropping off as its eight wheels rolled in tandem, grinding the dunes and heading into the Wastes.

  The ship snuck through the door. Elara leapt between the hinges.

  Rasshun tumbled after, the gate creaking shut behind him as soon as the ship rolled out. He stumbled, dropping behind a stack of metal crates with Elara. The gate locked, a long clang through the yard, echoing Rasshun’s entrapment. He huddled against the ground.

  No turning back now.

  Seven landships occupied the port, giant towers of metal. A long, paved runway stretched between them, littered with crates and dockworkers, cracked and faded with age. The ships’ shadows overtook the shipyard, their spires arching for the gray sky. Dwarves crawled along their sides like ants on their hills, carrying supplies up to repair the behemoths. A blast of heat came from one of the towers, searing the side of Rasshun’s face and drawing his attention.

  An Ironglass dragon stood up on a platform, shackled and chained, flames rippling from his jaws. The dragon blasted again, melting a metal plate onto the landship, prodded by a laughing dwarf. The dragon fired on, his eyes glazed over—yet there was a lust in his eyes, too. A hunger. He never stopped. He kept working, and wouldn’t stop until he was given what he needed…

  “Come on, wyrm!” Elara hissed. She snuck into the shadows.

  Rasshun looked at the dragon one last time, then followed.

  A maze of crates stretched out ahead, stacks of three to four, each made of steel. Carefully, Rasshun and Elara crept around, coming to a stop whenever a dwarf came by. Eventually, they made it to the second gate, next to the tallest landship in the yard.

  Double the height of the other landships, and four times as long, the landship ruled the shipyard. Crowned with three tall, forward-angled towers, and fitted with heavy, black armor, it stood as a lord amongst princes, regal and powerful. Elara looked up at the ship, her eyes aglow.

  “Elara?” Rasshun whispered.

  The human looked back at Rasshun and dragged him into the shadows. “We can’t get through that gate easily, not with the dwarves on the other side,” she said, “This is our way there, Rass!”

  “The landship?” he asked, “Wouldn’t that be—revealing?”

  Elara shrugged, her grin widening. Her teeth seemed to sharpen with malice.

  “A great reward is worth a great risk, Rass. If you want to make it without getting caught, we need to plow through here. Besides, the distraction would be a good concealment, wouldn’t it?” she asked, “You aren’t afraid of this, are you? Being such a witless wyrm, I wouldn’t…”

  “I’m not a wyrm!”

  “Prove it, then!”

  Elara hopped away, just out of reach. Rasshun growled, but her grin widened. “Just climb up there and get control of the ship while I get the engines started,” she said, “Easy. Quick. Shouldn’t be too much for you, right?”

  Rasshun stared up at the tower. Its shadow overtook him, spreading across the landscape. It rose like a giant, glaring down at him with two flickering orange pupils. He tried to catch the scents through the billowing smoke to see if he could tell what awaited inside, but they stung him, burning his lungs. He stumbled back.

  Elara laughed. “Afraid, wyrm?”

  Rasshun’s insides boiled. He turned to Elara.

  “Be ready, human,” he growled, “If you aren’t quick, I will be waiting on you.”

  Elara’s grin gleamed, taking on a new energy. Without another word, the Thief ran off toward the towers. She crouched and slid under the treads, disappearing into the underbelly of the beast. Rasshun watched, his mind catching up with him. How foolish could he be?

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Rasshun took a deep breath and crept toward the tower.

  Keeping to the shadows, he rounded the ship. A short ladder ran along the backside of the behemoth between the wheels, heading to the main tower. Wrapping his claws around the runs, Rasshun pulled himself up.

  Rasshun met the steel plates of the sides, searching for crevices and gaps in the armor to climb with. His claws tapped and clacked against the metal, sending vibrations through the ship’s haul. The scent of dwarf strengthened, leaking from above.

  He froze.

  Three dwarves stood on a rackety, rusting platform held up by four, thin bars, just above him. Rasshun hugged the side of the ship, lying flat against a black Ironglass plate. A shiver of energy ran through him. Shadows engulfed him, wrapping him in a cloak of darkness. The dwarves shouted, their words spilling over the platform:

  “A sturm is coming in, ya?” one said.

  “Of curs, right before this beauty makes her voyage,” another growled, “The Sun must be challenging us!”

  “Or methinks, he’s angry?” the third said.

  The dwarves silenced. Rasshun tensed and stretched his claws.

  “Why would he be angry?” the first dwarf asked.

  “Don’t know, just look to the sky, ya?” the third said. He knocked the first over the head with an open hand. “The Sun doesn’t make bad wetter for nothin’, now does he?”

  “That’s a bunch of dull Metal,” the second said, “We called her the Sun Runner, so why would the Sun be angry?”

  “Perhaps he doesn’t like it!”

  The dwarves raised their voices and hammers at one another, tumbling around, and Rasshun took the chance to round the platform, heading for the shadows on the other side. He took hold of a metal bar…

  His claws slipped, scraping against the steel with a shriek. Rasshun ducked into the dark.

  The first dwarf stared in his direction, squinting.

  “Eh, what’s that?” he asked, “Something on the side there, eh?”

  Rasshun shrunk, his scales rising on end. The dwarves came to the edge of the platform, peering over. The first dwarf waved his hammer over the side, swinging just ahead of Rasshun’s snout, whooshing by.

  Distraction. He needed a distraction.

  Four metal poles held up the platform, thin, weak…

  Rasshun whipped his tail against the closest beam, but it only creaked. The dwarves shouted, crashing into each other, realizing their predicament. Rasshun growled. He lashed his claws at the beam, and it snapped. The dwarves fell with a cry, iron clattering against iron and dwarf against dwarf. By the time they hit the ground, Rasshun stood atop the tower, nestling himself under a swinging steel plate.

  Dwarves ran to the commotion, gathering a crowd. Rasshun took his chance and crawled around the main, central tower, and approached a porthole along the side.

  Be careful. This wasn’t home, he had to be careful here…

  Two dwarves sat by the controls, their legs propped up on the lip, and their large, blackened feet sticking out the window. A mixture of lead, coal, and rottenness bellowed into Rasshun’s nose, sending a wave of dizziness through him.

  Clamping his nostrils shut, he crawled inside.

  “We should be home by now,” the dwarf on the right said. His voice echoed through the tower. Rasshun climbed, hanging on beams arching on the ceiling, and came over the dwarf. The dwarf shook his head. “What’re we even doing ‘ere? Surely the Wheel doesn’t need this ship that bad!”

  “Speak for yurself,” the other commented, “Sand is good on my feet…”

  Rasshun released his claws from the ceiling and fell on the first dwarf, grasping his face and scratching his chest. The dwarf shrieked. Rasshun gripped his throat with his ríl, quieting him. The other dwarf shot up and reached for a sword against the wall. Rasshun whipped his tail around and threw the dwarf down. They all froze.

  “Be quiet,” Rasshun hissed in common tongue, “Help me and I will spare you both.”

  The dwarf in Rasshun’s ríl nodded frantically, his crusty beard flailing in his face. The other dwarf sat back and raised his hands, the pipe in his mouth still smoking.

  “What do ya want?” the second dwarf asked. His friend regained his breath, unlocked from Rasshun’s grip.

  “I want to get to the mountain path,” Rasshun said, “This vessel can drive me through the mines. That is what I need.”

  The dwarf fell back, eyes wide enough to reflect the entire Wastes in. “Through the mines? Are you out of yur head? Why not just burn the Sun’s cloak while we’re at it? Madness!”

  Rasshun turned to the window.

  Beyond the second gate, hundreds of tents ran along the ridge. They lined pits. Pits and mines full of dwarves, going deep into unseen depths, into dark and desolate places, where echoes from that morning still rang through, fading away. On the other end of the camp stood the last gate, the mountain pass awaiting on the other side.

  It didn’t look that hard to drive through.

  “I want to go through,” Rasshun repeated, “Do I have to myself?”

  The dwarves looked at each other. The first reached for his throat.

  “The Sun would not approve,” the second one muttered, “What’re about the engines? No one is down there to start them…”

  The wooden floor rumbled, and a roar came from below. The singed smell of hot smoke bellowed into Rasshun’s nose, pouring out the top of the tower. The first dwarf tipped his head out the window frantically.

  “Can you drive now?” Rasshun asked.

  The first dwarf scratched his head. “Perhaps the Sun does approve…”

  The dwarves sat back down and reached for the controls in front of them. With the pull of a switch, the ship lurched forward. The engines rumbled anew, loud and smooth. The dwarves muttered between themselves, wincing as people outside shouted for them to stop. Rasshun clenched his tail, his scales rising. If only the dwarves would work faster!

  The hatch behind Rasshun clanged open. He shot to his feet, energy surging through his claws. Elara pushed through the trapdoor, her face black with soot and coal. Her grin remained untarnished.

  “Ah, got them working?” she said, “The engines should run long enough to reach the gates, then we’ll run for it.”

  “How’d ya power the engines?” the first dwarf asked.

  “Don’t ask me, you’re the ones who left raw Firesteel lying around.”

  Dwarves ran about below, searching for a way to stop the ship. The smarter threw ladders along the sides, while the foolish chucked big, heavy objects ahead of the ship. The rolling treads crushed anything that went under them, ladders, crates, and dwarves included. As a final effort, the dwarves gathered on the battlements of the second gate, raising long bows toward the tower.

  “Halt!” they shouted.

  “Keep going,” Elara coaxed the dwarven drivers, “Don’t stop until you break the last gate.”

  The dwarven drivers looked at each other. The first hesitantly pushed a single lever forward. A rumble ran through the ship’s innards and the engines below exploded. Hot smoke plumed into the sky amongst the darkening clouds. Rasshun held on, his teeth rattling.

  The dwarves on the wall let off a dozen arrows before they realized their danger. They leapt from the battlements, tumbling away as the Sun Runner slammed into the gates. The ship lurched. Rasshun stumbled, gripping the seats in front of him and dropping onto his hindquarters. The gates crashed down and shattered into panels of metal, making way for the Runner’s escape.

  The camp ran between the pits, leading up to the last gate. Red and blue tents bunched together in strange patterns up the sides of the valley, fading into the smoke. The Sun Runner rushed down the path toward the gate, scaring the dwarves below with its shadow. Arrows bounced off its armor, and several came through the windows, zipping by Rasshun’s head. He huddled closer to the floor. Elara dropped beside him with a grin across her face.

  The wind roared, making the storm’s presence known.

  Elara shook her head, still grinning. “High Storm.”

  “High Storm? What’s that?” Rasshun asked. His tail swished, and he forced it under his ríl to stop it.

  The dwarven drivers’ mouths dropped behind their beards. The first pointed toward the sky, where the black and deep purple clouds gathered like an army, roaring winds like battle horns and screaming dragons. The second laughed nervously.

  “Son, you don’t know what a High Sturm is?” he said, “Where’ve you been hiding these past years?”

  “You’ll be in fur a treat, then,” the other dwarf said, “Storm of pure energy! Pure Stormshard energy that is. Best hold on tight.”

  The wailing winds threw the tower around like a plaything. Twisting, rolling, flying down the valley. Dwarves below ran into the camp, giving up their endeavor and fleeing from the winds. Thick rain drops tapped against the roof, draining off in streams from the window, putting a veil of gray between them and the outside.

  The High Storm rolled above. It danced in a circle, mesmerizing Rasshun with wisps of dark purple and black. Light flashed from its depths, and a tendril of lightning fell from the abyss, demolishing a stone tower at the top of the valley. A long rumble followed, shaking the ship. Rasshun drew back from the window, tensing.

  “Elara, perhaps we shouldn’t be doing this…”

  “Nonsense, we’re fine in here!” Elara said, “Just keep rolling forward…”

  A flash blinded Rasshun. Whiteness. An explosion shattered the roar of the engines. Screams rang out from the camp, echoing through the valley. Rasshun’s vision cleared. The ringing faded. His stomach flipped over.

  Flaming rocks rained down from the mountainside, rolling over the gate. Small buildings along the valley wall collapsed, joining the tumble. The rubble piled up on the gate, flames rising into an inferno, and the lightning retracted, thundering as its terrible work completed.

  “Slow down, now!” Rasshun shouted.

  The dwarves pulled the levers back, but it was too late.

  The Sun Runner slammed into the rocks with a crash, crying out one last time before its roar gave away. The tower cracked and squealed. Shards of metal and wood flew, bouncing off Rasshun’s scales. He leapt for the wall, stabbing his claws into the steel. Everyone else fell back with the tower, tumbling over each other.

  The tower groaned, wind roaring through its windows and torn walls. Rasshun cried out, but his voice drowned in the chaos. The tower slammed into the ground. Rasshun flew, knocking against a wall, and the world went dark.

  The behemoth settled. The wind whirled.

  A pain struck through Rasshun’s left ríl. He gave a short, pathetic whimper. Blackness overtook his vision, and shadows ran everywhere, killing the lights. He rolled over, falling to the ground which had once been the rear wall, and the world spun, twisting around and turning upside down. A shard of wood stuck out of his shoulder, bent and gnarled. Blood poured out of the splinters and pooled on the floor. He whined, breaking the silence.

  “E—Elara?” he called.

  A groan from the darkness caught his attention. He hurried toward the origin, his muscles burning and eating away, and stumbled into a pile of steel.

  Elara lay under a metal plate, the two dwarves lying passed out on either side. Torn strips of cloak lie around her, and droplets of her blood splattered across the debris. She gave one more groan before her eyes shut—but she still breathed. Rasshun stepped over her, his claws curling.

  Wind rushed in, cooling Rasshun’s scales. Light came next.

  A crack opened in the side of the tower, light streaming in. Shouts rang out in the openness as the dwarves gathered, growing louder. Closer. If Rasshun left now, he could get back to the Wastes before the dwarves noticed him. From there he could find another way into the mountains. He would be safe.

  He made a step toward the opening but looked back at Elara.

  Leaving her would mean her death. But taking her could mean the same for both of them—or worse. Enslavement, forever chained, forced to melt plates of metal together, to never know the freedom of the Wastes again, or the feeling of cool wind on freshly opened wings…

  Rasshun winced at the pain in his shoulder, trying to think…

  Didn’t he need her to reach the mountains?

  That was the only excuse he needed.

  Rasshun lifted the metal plate away with the remaining strength left in his ríl. He groaned, dropping it aside, and dragged her from the ruin, using his tail to wrap around her waist and pull her out. Without thought, he slipped out into the free air and melded with the shadows and debris from the Storm. The dwarves arrived just as he left.

  Rasshun quickened his pace. Just a little further.

  The dwarves, with all their attentions on the High Storm and the landship, neglected Rasshun. All were too busy covering their faces from the winds, huddling in ruined buildings from the rain, and wailing to their gods. None noticed him crawl over the wreckage of the second gate, through the harbor, and back to the entrance.

  A dwarf guarded the ajar gate, hanging on a ladder to see the commotion better. Rasshun slipped by, and before anyone could suspect, he took off into the Wastes.

  -

  Rasshun ran through the night, sand crusting his eyes and the wood in his shoulder hindering every step. The foothills of the mountains rose above him, great dark phantoms swirled in purple clouds, reaching out to take him. He turned away from them and stopped, his breath catching. The world settled, left silent. No one around.

  Safe.

  He collapsed into the sand and lost consciousness.