The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2) (39 page)

Pffff—

Tor’s body vibrates and wiggles and transforms back into his human form.

“Dang, Uncle Rot,” Miles says, “you’re one nasty badass—
hiccup.
”

OLD FRIENDS

After a quiet remainder of their evening followed by a peaceful night of sleep, Pard and the others leave the inn the next morning and head to Khloe’s restaurant for breakfast before another day of trekking to Ravin.

“So how long before we make it to Ravin and the train station?” Pard says to Deet as he strolls along the sidewalk.

“By my calculation we should be there in two days. Then all we need to do is catch a train and we’ll really put some distance between us and Alexa.”

Pard and Miles bump shoulders into each other and joke as Deet and Tor walk behind them. Deet eyes his map rechecking his calculations, and Tor scans every person, old or young that pass by, which they all quickly avert their gaze and curiosity and mind their own business.

Miles pats the iron bumper of a motor carriage sitting in front of the town’s bank. “This is what we need, if we take one of these mechanical buggies we’ll be in Ravin within an hour and be done with the walking and cold and Alexa.”

“No stealing unless we don’t have a choice,” Deet says.

“So high and mighty you are, I was just saying. Besides, if you already forgot, it’s freezing out here, and it kind of warrants a need, I think. It wouldn’t be like we’re taking the buggy forever, just to the next town over, and then the owner can have it back.”

“
No stealing!
”

Miles rolls his eyes. “
Fine
.”

A rumble and engines sputtering catches their attention.

Pard and the others turn, and a line of three motor buggies bounce on the road moving toward them.

“Might be trouble,” Deet says. “Only the rich or the connected like Alexa have the means for a mechanical buggy.”

Miles leans forward and his eyes narrow. “Hey, Pard, doesn’t that car look familiar?”

Pard takes step forward and his body tenses as a black motor buggy is about to pass them. “That one in the rear, it looks like the mayor’s buggy, the fancy covered one with the yellow wheels.” The first carriage zips by, then another, then the last one is about to pass, and two figures form in the window. Pard smiles.
It can’t be
,
Selby
,
alive?

The car bounces and skirts by, with Selby, her face sad and worn and the side of her cheek pressed against the cloudy glass.

“She’s alive,” Pard says.

Selby catches a glimpse of Pard and the others, and her head slowly turns toward them as the car passes.

Pard lunges into the street and waves. “Selby!”

Deet rips down Pard’s arm and jerks him out of the road. “You’re making a scene—it could be a trap.”

“She’s alive, Deet.”

“Good for you, kid, now keep your head on straight. The Acue and Alexa could be using her.”

Miles pats Pard on the back. “See, I told you, you should just listen to me, I wouldn’t lead you astray. And I think that was her mother driving. I met her at a private dinner a couple years ago. I don’t think they’re in trouble—probably getting as far away from Greysin and Alexa and the others the same as we are.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Pard says.

“I’m happy for you, kid,” Deet says, “but we have to keep moving. And don’t draw anymore attention to yourself.”

“I know.” Pard watches Selby’s carriage roll out of town and out of sight.

They walk a little farther, almost at Khloe’s, and Pard slows, reaching the alley where they had their adventure the previous night. Two men wearing black suits stand at the entrance and interview townsfolk.
 

“What do you think?” Pard says to Miles.

Miles shrugs. “Let’s check it out.”

“Don’t say a word, either of you,” Deet says. “Keep walking.”

“We won’t.” And Miles rolls his eyes.

Pard stops next to a constable wearing a brown uniform and holding a baton. He cranes his neck around him to see down the alley.

“Keep moving,” Deet says, “let the men work.”

Pard ignores him for a second, wanting to sneak a glimpse of Tor’s handiwork in the full sunlight.

Thirty paces away, the lanky man that attacked them the night before is talking to a black-haired woman in a black duster coat. Her back toward the entrance of the alley, she suddenly turns around.

Pard’s eyes widen.
Eeva
. He sucks in a breath about to turn away but then notices two other men talking to the scraggly woman—two men equally unnerving. One, a grizzled man with a grey floppy, wide-brimmed hat, turns around and eyes Pard.
Cray
.

Pard first ducks behind the constable and then skirts by the men wearing the black suits. He lowers his head and chugs forward and catches back up to Deet. He leans into him and whispers, “Eeva and Cray—together in the alley—Cray saw me.”

Deet jerks to a stop, and he scans the street for the answer to come to him. He points at a small black motor buggy across the street, parked in front of a building labeled,
Land Acquirer
. Its white wheels are as white as the snow still perched on the roofs of the surrounding buildings, and the rims painted bright red. The carriage has no roof, and only a shiny black cover lies overtop of the seats. “That motor contraption over there—we’re taking it.”

Miles looks at Deet as if he’s crazy. “But I thought you said we weren’t going to steal anything.”

“Times change, and we need to move.” Deet rushes straight across the street. He stands next to the driver’s side and scans the road for anyone watching.

“What is the problem?” Tor says, eyeing Deet and not understanding the sudden panic.

“I’ll explain later—get in the back.” Deet nods at Miles. “I imagine your father has one of these things, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Can you make it work?”

Miles shrugs. “Maybe—I guess so.”

“You guess so or yes?” Deet glances back at the alley where Pard saw Eeva and Cray.

“Sure,” Miles says, “but what’s the rush?”

“Eeva and Cray are in the alley,” Pard says.

Miles’s eyes open wide and his body reacts. He pats the grill while investigating the front of the carriage. “Right, all right, think, how did this thing work—”
 

“Cray!” Tor says, and he opens his duster and unsheathes his battle-axe.

Deet squeezes Tor’s bicep. “Relax there, big guy, we don’t want to make a scene if we don’t have too.”

Pard nods in agreement. “They’re talking to the skinny guy that attacked Miles. He probably told them what he saw, and that you carried an axe, so best keep it hidden for now.”

Tor grunts and removes his hand from the handle though he doesn’t take his eye off the alley. “Wise words, young seeros, though some battles cannot be avoided, scene or not.”

Deet rips off the black cover protecting the fine leather seats and stuffs it in the small metal trunk perched on the back. He scurries around to the front of the carriage where Miles is crouched over and still inspecting a metal compartment with a crank. “Can you make this thing work or not, Marlow? We need to move.”

“Yes, yes, just give me a second, I’ve only done this part once.” Miles grabs the L-handle and winds the crank.

The engine revs but doesn’t start.

“I can’t get it to turn over.”

Deet nods at Tor. “Get over here, we need you.” He points at the crank. “Turn that thing as fast as you can.”

Tor grunts, grips the handle, and winds the crank with blinding speed.

The engine revs, clicks, coughs, and sputters, then ignites. The motor carriage vibrates and rattles.

Deet pats Tor on the back. “Good job, big guy, get in the left side, we’re outta here.”

Pard crawls into the miniature backseat with Tor, whose left shoulder juts out over the side of the carriage and the whole body of the buggy tilts to the left and sinks when he sits.

Deet shoves Miles into the driver seat and he skates around to the other side and hops in the passenger side. “Get us moving, Lord Marlow.”

Miles fondles the buttons and levers, taking everything in for a second.
 

“You, you! They’re stealing my carriage!” a ball of a man wearing fox fur says, waving and yelling in the middle of the street.

“Time to go, Miles!” Pard says, leaning into the front seat and nudging Miles on the shoulder.

The constables point at the carriage, and Cray, Hawke, and Eeva squeeze by them and eye the buggy.
 

Deet leans forward angling to the side and his face is exposed out from under his black hood.

Eeva’s eyes fix on Pard then transition to Deet. She scowls and flings open her duster coat and goes for her silver whip.

Tor tilts around, and Cray’s eyes meet his.
 

Cray gives Tor a devious grin and mouths,
gotcha
.

Deet pulls out his pistol and pounds his palm on the dash. “Go, Marlow, go!”

Miles punches a big black button on the dash, jabs forward a skinny iron lever jutting out from the floorboards, and slams on the floor pedal.

The car clucks and sputters and jerks and rolls.

Eeva arcs back her whip in the air, orange tip glowing and spitting electricity.

Deet aims his pistol and fires.

Bang, bang, bang—

 
The constables and everyone else duck for cover.

Cray and Hawke draw their weapons and fan out.

Eeva unleashes a glowing orange ball of light toward the carriage and it strikes the ground next to Deet, searing the snow and stone.
 

Another orange orb blasts the sidewalk next to Pard, and it webs out melting chaotic thin lines in the snow and singes the brick black.

Deet continues to shoot until no more bullets fire.

Boom
—

Cray’s rifle bellows as he shoots.

Pard flinches as the back wood and metal compartment of the motor carriage explodes and splinters, a hole the size of his fist is gaping through the side. He shoves Miles again. “Faster, Miles, faster!”

“I’m trying, my foot is to the floor, this is as fast as it will go!”

Deet reloads his pistol.

Boom
—

Pard flinches as the back corner of the carriage explodes.

One of Eeva’s orange orbs shoots over the top of their heads and they all duck.

The carriage finally picks up speed moving as fast as a galloping horse and the buggy exits the main part of the town. It bounces and skids and rattles forward, leaving Larin Town behind, over a hill, over a small bridge which crosses a wide river, then into open snow fields of farm country skirted by the thick evergreen forests.

Pard peeks back.

Alexa, joining Eeva, she is barely visible, standing in the middle of the road and raising a pistol high in the air, but she doesn’t fire. A motor carriage stops next to her, and Alexa climbs into the passenger side door.

Pard’s buggy zips and slides around a sharp curve to the left and enters a narrow opening fenced in with pines, and the town completely disappears behind them.
 

“We lost them for the time being,” Pard says. “Good job, Miles.”

Miles grins, pleased with himself. “I knew I remembered how this stupid mechanical thing worked.”

“Anyway,” Deet says, and he pulls out his map and traces the surface with his finger as he periodically scans the surroundings. “This road should wind through this small section of forest then come out in another open section of farms. In a few minutes we should come to a road on the right leading north through a small town and then Ravin. If we can keep this pace, and we’re lucky, we may even make it out of this alive.”

A GUISE OF ICE

They enter open farmland, and the buggy turns onto a long straightaway toward a small town in a narrow valley.

A few minutes later, Pard looks behind and the black smoke from four motor carriages spews into the air in sporadic puffs, and behind them, several men riding horses at full speed. “They’re coming. A lot of them.”

Deet clinches his teeth and looks behind. “Of course they’re coming.” He eyes Tor. “Any ideas?”

“I say we fight to the death on open ground. Let our enemies wallow in our wake of death and destruction as we cut through them or die with honor. Fleeing is for cowards.”

Miles contorts his face into his battle mask, grips the wheel tight and bounces up in down in his seat, pulsating toward and away from the wheel, pumped up by Tor’s credo.

“
Umm
, right,” Deet says, glancing at Pard and then at Miles in his moment of fierce warrior delusions. “Nope, that’s not an option, big guy. It’s flee or something else. Any other ideas?”

Tor grunts in disapproval and frowns as he gets lost in the vast fields blanketed with white.

Deet sighs. “All right, then I guess I have to come up with something.”

The carriage slows as it chugs and lurches up a steep hill, not built for the weight of four passengers, or at least one Tor, who is the equivalent of two adults by himself.

“They’re gaining on us,” Pard says, continuing to stare at the caravan behind them with Cray and Hawke now leading the way riding atop two horses.

“We aren’t going to make it to the Ravin train station before they catch up to us,” Deet says. “And we don’t stand a chance against all of them head on.” Deet flips open his map and scans the terrain and the small semblance of the town approaching.

“If we fight,” Tor says, “I’m good for at least six of those little men.”

“I’m sure you are, but Lord Marlow and the kid are probably good for zero.”

“Hey!” Miles says, still slightly bouncing up and down getting himself psyched up for battle.

“Don’t take it personally and keep driving.”

“I think you may underestimate the boys,” Tor says.

“If the kid new how to use his light, maybe we would stand a chance.” Deet taps Pard on his back. “You know any good light spells?”

“What’s that?” Pard says.

“Like what Alexa did when she connected with you in the Fairstone cathedral.”

Pard scratches his head in confusion.