Forged in Blood II Read online

  Table of Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Also by the Author

  Forged in Blood II

  (The Emperor’s Edge, Book 7)

  by Lindsay Buroker

  Copyright © 2013 Lindsay Buroker

  Foreword

  Welcome, good reader, to the conclusion of the Emperor’s Edge series. I’ve had fun creating these characters and writing their adventures, and I’d like to thank you for sticking with me through seven books. I’ve appreciated the positive reviews, the nice emails, the fan fiction and fan art, and just knowing that people enjoy spending time in this world.

  I’d like to also thank my fabulous beta readers, Kendra Highley and Becca Andre, who’ve stuck with me since Book 1. They’ve made a lot of great suggestions along the way, and I know these are better stories due to their advice. I’ve also been fortunate enough to have a great team of people who have helped get these books ready to publish. Thank you to Shelley Holloway, my editor, Glendon Haddix, my cover designer, and Ted Risk, my ebook formatter.

  Now I better let you get into the story, as I seem to remember leaving a cliffhanger at the end of Part 1…

  Chapter 1

  Amaranthe wasn’t dead. At least, she didn’t think so. Dead people probably didn’t hurt all over. The flying lifeboat had insulated them from the crash somehow, though her head had connected with a couple more walls before the craft stopped bouncing.

  “Books?” she asked into the darkness. “Akstyr? I hope one of you is alive, because I have no idea how to open that door and get out of this thing.”

  A deep, pained sigh came from underneath her—she’d tumbled back on top of the men again during the landing. Amaranthe crawled to the side, though there wasn’t much open space in the cramped cabin.

  “One of you?” Books repeated. “You have no preference as to whom your survivor is, nor a belief that one of us would be more equal to the task of opening a door secured by ancient unfathomable technology, or of deciphering instructions written in an inscrutable alien tongue?”

  He must not be wounded horribly if he could utter all that.

  “You saw instructions?” Amaranthe asked.

  “Well, no, but it was hard to get a good look in the dark. And while we were being shot at.”

  “We still have the darkness problem,” Amaranthe pointed out. The viewport that had appeared while they were in flight had disappeared before the crash, leaving the inside of their lifeboat utterly black. “Akstyr?” Amaranthe patted about, finding his back, then following it up to his neck so she could check his pulse. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d hurled himself into the craft, dodging the incendiary beams of those indestructible cubes.

  He mumbled something at her touch on his neck.

  “What?” Amaranthe breathed a sigh of relief. They might be a thousand miles from the capital, but at least they were all alive.

  “Wanna rest,” he slurred. He lay facedown, his mouth pressed into the floor. “But some muddy’s knee is up my buss.”

  “I think he’s referring to your body part,” Amaranthe told Books mildly, fairly certain she wasn’t sitting on anyone anymore. Though she couldn’t be sure what a “buss” was.

  “Ah.” Books shifted. “I’d wondered why that section of the floor was so bony.”

  “Ma buss not bony,” Akstyr slurred.

  Maybe more than his positioning accounted for the mangled words. Amaranthe prodded his scalp and found a lump. He must have hit his head, among other things. He’d also been wearier than a long-distance runner after a race when he’d stumbled into the lifeboat. Out of curiosity, Amaranthe investigated her own scalp. She snorted when she found three lumps. Maybe her words were coming out slurred too.

  Books groaned as he stood up. “I’ll see if I can find the—”

  The door slid up, the material disappearing into the hull. Starlight, freezing air, and the scent of snow-covered pine trees entered. The cold air slithered through Amaranthe’s leggings, and she tugged her dress down as far as it would go. A chunk of blonde hair tumbled into her eyes. She shoved it behind her ear and wished for a beaver fur hat. She had a feeling her Suan costume wasn’t going to be suitable for this next adventure. Not to mention that ridiculous underwear she’d let Maldynado pick out. One slip down an icy slope, and she’d have snow all the way up her—

  She sighed. At least the fur boots were practical.

  “Good work, Books.” Amaranthe patted around, finding two of their rifles. The cartridge ammunition littered the floor, and she scooped up as much as she could. Who knew what they’d face out there? The craft could have plopped them down into grimbal or makarovi territory.

  “Uhm, yes. Except I didn’t do anything. Perhaps it sensed that we’ve landed and is ready to spew us forth into the world of its own accord.”

  “That’s fine,” Amaranthe said. “I’m ready to be spewed.”

  “Think I was already spewed,” Akstyr muttered and curled his legs up to his chest. “It’s cold. I wanna stay here and sleep. Be warm.”

  “If the door closes again,” Books said, “you may be stuck inside forever, because I don’t know how to open it.”

  Akstyr lurched to his feet and stumbled out into the snow. “Never mind. I’m ready.”

  He barely made it through the threshold before slumping against the hull.

  “Why don’t you stay here,” Amaranthe suggested, “and try to make a fire? Books and I will figure out where we are.”

  When she stepped outside, shivering at the wind scouring the mountainside, her optimism floundered. A few pines, the bases half buried by drifts, dotted the slope below them. They’d landed above the tree line and, she feared, far from any towns. Not good. They weren’t prepared for winter wilderness survival conditions.

  Books stepped out beside her and surveyed their dark surroundings. “Hm.”

  “Does that mean you don’t know where we are either?” Amaranthe wished she had an idea of how far they’d flown and in which direction. Were they fifty miles from the capital? Or five hundred? Though she’d been out of Stumps more times in the last year than in her entire life prior to meeting Sicarius and the others, she didn’t exactly qualify as a world explorer yet.

  “That may be a pass over there,” Books mused. “And those four peaks in a row remind me of the Scarlet Sisters, though there are arrangements like that in other mountain ranges, too, I’m certain. We don’t seem to have left the climate zone, albeit we’re at a higher and, ah, chillier altitude. The stars are familiar.”

  “That was a yes, right? You don’t know where we are?”

  Books grumped something that might have been agreement.

  “I hear a train,” Akstyr said from where he still leaned against the lifeboat hull, his eyes closed, his arms wrapped tightly about himself and the rumpled guard uniform he’d acquired on the way down to the Behemoth.

  Amaranthe perked up. He was right. She caught the distant chuffing of an engine working hard to pull its load up an incline.

  “Oh!” Books said. “Those are the Scarlet Sisters then. That’ll be the East-West Line, and that train is either traveling to or from Stumps.”

>   Given the chaos the Behemoth’s appearance must have caused—Amaranthe had no idea if it’d sunken back down into the lake or taken off for some distant destination, but people would have witnessed it either way—she thought traveling from was the more likely scenario. Or fleeing from perhaps. Still… “Let’s see if we can get to the rails before it’s gone. If it’s going to the city—”

  “It could be our ride home,” Books finished.

  “Does this mean no fire?” Akstyr asked.

  “Sorry.” Amaranthe grabbed his arm. They’d have to hurry to have any chance of scrambling down the mountain in time.

  “You can sleep on the way back to the city,” Books said. “We’re over one hundred and fifty miles from Stumps.”

  Amaranthe’s mind boggled at the idea that they’d traveled that far in a couple of minutes, but she was more concerned about getting back now. She handed Books the other rifle and led the way down the mountainside, plowing through snow that enveloped her legs up to her knees with every step. It didn’t take long for sweat to break out on her brow and weariness to slow her limbs. Her newly acquired bruises and lumps further protested this unasked-for workout, and she wasn’t altogether upset when Akstyr announced he was too tired to go on. They stopped to rest, huddling beneath the boughs of a tree for protection from the wind. The chugs of the train faded from hearing.

  “I believe that one was heading away from the capital,” Books said.

  Amaranthe doubted he could tell—with the mountain walls, canyons, and crevasses distorting sound, she couldn’t—but she could understand the desire for optimism. Especially when her toes were freezing in her boots. Once again, she was glad she’d ignored Maldynado’s suggestion to wear sandals to the yacht club.

  “Anyone have any food?” Akstyr asked when they started out again.

  “Not unless Amaranthe’s purse contains more than glue for her fake nose,” Books said.

  “Actually, I have some of Sicarius’s dried meat-and-fat bars in here,” Amaranthe said.

  “I’d rather eat the nose glue,” Akstyr said.

  “You may change your mind after another day out here.”

  Akstyr’s grumbled response was too low to make out.

  They continued their trudge, cold and miserable and unequipped for the terrain, though traveling downhill took some of the anguish out of the trek. As dawn broke over the mountains, the clear sky untouched by smog and impressive in its gradated pinks and oranges, they reached the pass. The cleared tracks, snow piled high to either side, wound through the treacherous terrain, a black snake navigating boulders and slopes.

  Amaranthe angled toward a bridge, the support structure towering well over the tracks. It’d be an opportune place—or rather the only place—to jump onto a moving train, and the team had practiced such maneuvers before.

  That didn’t keep Books from groaning as they approached. “Why am I certain of what’s in your mind and certain it’ll be dangerous?”

  “Really, Books, we’ve been chased by man-incinerating machines, flung from an aircraft so alien our science can’t begin to fathom it, and hurtled hundreds of miles to crash on a mountainside. You’re going to complain about something as benign as hopping onto a train?”

  “She’s got a point, you know,” Akstyr said. “It’s freezing out here. I’d do just about anything to get off this mountain.”

  Books’s harrumphed.

  Amaranthe nudged Akstyr. “He’s just complaining out of habit now. It’s what men do when they get old.”

  “I am not old,” Books said. “I probably wouldn’t even have any gray hair yet if I weren’t traipsing around after you all the time. This last year has been enough to age a man ten.”

  “That’s a lie. You had gray temples when I met you.”

  “Fine, these last two years have been enough to age a man ten.”

  They’d reached the base of the bridge, frothy white water frozen into ridges of ice far below, and Amaranthe stopped teasing Books. She didn’t wish to remind him of the death of his son and the difficult times he’d faced before joining her team. Granted, he was right that the last year hadn’t been without difficulties either. But it’d all end soon. One way or another.

  This time, Amaranthe heard the train first, the distant chugs coming from the west. “It’s heading to the capital. This is our opportunity.” She waved for them to climb halfway up one of the towers rising from the suspension bridge. “It’s still dark enough that, if we’re lucky, the engineer won’t notice us crouching up there.”

  “We’re due some luck,” Books said.

  “Let’s be happy there are trains coming through and that we didn’t have to wait for days out here.” The East-West Line was a busy one, taking passengers and freight from Stumps to the various ports on the west coast and back, but Amaranthe hadn’t known what to expect with the capital locked down. She did know the train would be stopped and searched before being allowed into the city. Best to worry about getting on first. “Akstyr, can you make the climb?” she asked.

  Books was shimmying up the steel supports, but Akstyr stood at the base, staring upward, his eyes sunken and his body slumped.

  “Yes,” he sighed and started climbing. “But promise me I can curl up in a corner and sleep the rest of the way back to the city.”

  “It’d probably be best to stay on the roof,” Books called down, “so they don’t know we’ve sneaked aboard. You can sleep up there.”

  “Sounds cold.”

  Amaranthe secured her rifle across her back and climbed up after them without commenting, though she agreed the roof might be best. That way, they could jump off the train as it was pulling into the checkpoint, before any soldiers climbed aboard to search.

  By the time she joined the men on a ledge halfway up the tower, the train was lumbering into view, its pace slow as it wound its way up the mountainside and into the pass.

  “Dead ancestors with caltrops,” Amaranthe said when she spotted black-painted cars with golden imperial army logos on the sides. Those cars, dozens of them, would be filled with soldiers. More troops to support Flintcrest? Or Heroncrest? Or even Ravido? Whoever’s men they were, they wouldn’t be coming to join Sespian.

  “Definitely best to stay on the roof,” Books said, “or avoid getting on altogether. How do you feel about waiting for the next train?”

  Akstyr groaned, doubtlessly displeased at the idea of climbing back down, then having to climb back up again later. And then there was the cold and the limited food supply. Amaranthe flexed her numbed fingers within mittens made to ward off the chill during a quick outing into the city, not to protect digits from sub-zero mountain temperatures. Thanks to the wind, she already couldn’t feel her nose, and white crystals had frozen her lashes together. Now that they’d stopped moving, the chill was more noticeable. The sun might bring a reprieve, but another storm could come in that day too.

  “We have no idea how long we’d be waiting,” she said, “and the next train might be more of the same. Someone ought to block the pass so all these reinforcements can’t continue to trickle in.”

  “No,” Books said, sounding like Sicarius for a moment, he being the only one of the men who blatantly naysayed her.

  Amaranthe had simply been musing aloud, so she wasn’t affronted by his vehemence. Their priority should be getting back to the city, not attacking supply lines, and she knew it. Yet… she had a hard time dropping the idea now that it’d formed.

  “We don’t have any explosives,” Akstyr said. “And I’m too tired to make a landslide.”

  “We wouldn’t necessarily need anything so permanent. What if we jumped on behind the locomotive, and decoupled the rest of the cars, the same as the last time we hopped a train? The soldiers would be stranded, and the railway into the city would be blocked until someone got another locomotive out to move the cars.”

  Books was staring at her. “Can’t you ever take the easy route? Why can’t we catch a ride into the city and leave it at th
at?”

  “You disagree that it’d be wise to deny reinforcements to the generals competing with Sespian for the throne?”

  “No, but why do we always have to do these things?” Books sounded tired and frazzled. They’d all been up for too long without sleep.

  “Who else will?” Amaranthe asked.

  He growled. “Maybe we should stand back, let them all fight each other until they’re tired of it, then come in and offer a less bloodthirsty system of government to the survivors.”

  “You think it would be that easy?”

  Books sighed and leaned his head against the steel beam. “No.”

  “It’s going to be here in a second.” Akstyr pointed at the oncoming train, the black locomotive leading the way, its grill guard like a wolf’s snarling face, full of sharp fangs.

  Amaranthe shifted her weight on the ledge, readying herself to jump. “Coal car,” she instructed.

  Books didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t resume the argument.

  The pass was flat compared to the terrain the train had finished climbing, and it picked up speed as it bore down on the bridge. They’d have to time their jump carefully. None of them were fresh.

  Judging the approach in her head, listening to the clicketyclack of the wheels rolling over rail segments, Amaranthe said, “Now!” and dropped from the tower. Wind roared in her ears, then faded as her feet hit the coal.

  Elbows jostled her as she turned the landing into a roll, Akstyr and Books doing the same. They couldn’t have dropped in any closer to each other if they’d held hands. She banged someone with her rifle, and the coal scraped her fake nose off, but that was the worst of their injuries. As one, they rose into low crouches, careful to keep their heads down. If someone in the first troop car had seen them drop, or noticed them now… She was all too aware that Sicarius, Maldynado, and Basilard weren’t with her this time. As much as her ego wanted to reject the notion, she, Books, and Akstyr were the weakest fighters on the team. When she’d been separating everyone into neat parties, she hadn’t planned on combat for her half. Naive, that. She hoped Sespian was finding her men useful in Fort Urgot.