Emre and the bikrome slipped from growing line of Drenth-born. They weaved through the throng, careful not to bump into anyone or draw attention to themselves. Most were too busy trying to get closer to the barricade, invitations held ready. After a few minutes, Emre and Valeria dipped into the alley.
“What do we do now, Emre?” Lojen asked.
“Ruane, give me one of the charges.”
She reached into her vest and pulled out a small cylindrical bomb. Inside was a quarter pound of raw aethecite and some other elements mixed in the proper combination to make it go boom.
“Val?” Emre held the bomb toward the bikrome, who used her aetheurgy, summoning a small Ignis flame at her fingertip. With it, she drew a rune onto the Aere-created mechanical while Emre spoke, “We’ll create a diversion for you two to get upon the chain. Make a wide berth around to the other side of the tether, and then wait for the explosion. In the confusion you can jump aboard.”
“Luck, friend,” Lojen said, extending his claw to Emre. “You might need this, then?” He proffered the multi-barrel pistol Emre had given him earlier.
The scion of Drenth took the pistol and then Lojen’s clawed talon. “For all of us.”
“Want this?” Ruane asked of Valeria Dunleith, offering the bikrome one of the other pistols.
The bikromi elfir smiled and shook her head, reached down silkily, and pulled one from somewhere under her stola.
“Where did you hide that, Val?” Emre asked.
“A lady never tells.”
As the pair made their way back into the crowd, the Gutter King brushed up against a lamppost, and Lojen saw him bend down as if he was tying his bootlace. But instead, he placed the bomb upon the metal post, a magnetic field clinging tight. Then he dragged Valeria to one side.
As one, the crowd of nobles ducked instinctively from the blast that followed, shrieks and screams matching the deafening sound from the explosion. Smoke billowed into the air; the few remaining pieces of the lamppost flew in a hundred directions. The soldiers at the gondola moved with tactical precision as they herded the guests like cattle toward the far row of buildings and away from the explosion. The scourge drew that blackened blade with the bird wings and jumped the barricade with the intent of battle.
“Now!” Emre barked.
The humir and bikrome raised their weapons and fired into the air, then quickly pushed through the crowd, elbowing well-dressed men and women aside as they raced toward the opposite side of the street.
“Come on, Ru!” Lojen pulled his sister into the mass of flesh and cut a straight path to the tether base.
The barricade was right in front of them now, and the lead row of guests pressed forward trying to make the gondola in a bid for safety. The few remaining Imperium soldiers couldn’t stem the tide as they crowded the carriage, rocking it under too many feet. Both Ruane and Lojen took to the fence and climbed behind the gondola. It swayed as they scrambled up to the metal roof, where they huddled upon the rounded carriage roof, Lojen huffing, Ruane grinning earhole to earhole.
“That wasn’t too bad,” Ruane whispered.
“That was the easy part.”
“O don’t be such a Scurred Hatch.”
Lojen whistled relief as the gondola began to rise, the aethecite engine humming along to the Hymn of War singing in the streets of Drenth once more. The Gutter King and the bikrome disappeared down an alley as they fired their weapons. The scourge and a handful of Imperium soldiers hot on their heels.
The wind streamed over his body as Lojen clung against the smooth metal of the gondola’s roof. His stomach was in his boots and there was a giant ball of fear blocking his throat. If he was humir, he’d be scrunching his eyes closed as tightly as he could, and tears would be pouring down his face with the mere thought of what he had agreed to do.
You’re an idiot, Lojen. A fool who doesn’t know his tail from a shadow.
He forcefully turned his head to see Ruane, and just as he assumed, his sister was loving every second of the ride on the gondola. She beamed; her mouth was open as the air whistled through her teeth. It was just like Ru to be having the time of her life while he lay here and tried to keep his lunch down.
Tentatively, he pushed himself into a plank position, forcing his body to stop shaking. When that was successful—and the overwhelming need to retch passed—he took note of their situation.
Although the gondola wasn’t moving very fast, they were rising at a steady pace and had gone past most of the building tops. A few of the larger condominiums still rose like metal trees. But soon enough, they would clear them as well, breaking into open sky.
The links above his head were so large, he could barely see around them. Just below the chain were four six-inch cables in an almost square-like shape, two for each gondola. The aethecite engine had two rotating wheel-like gears between each pair of cables, and the wheels had grooves fitted to the cable.
“Lojen, we’re running out of time.”
The other gondola—the one coming down—was no more than two hundred feet away. If they didn’t get upon the chain soon, their cover might be blown and the whole plan would fail.
Fighting the gurgle in his gullet, Lojen pulled on the climbing gloves, ready to instruct Ru to do the same, but she’d already done so.
“After you, Scurred Hatch. Or do you need your little sister to show you how it’s done?”
“By Justice, Ru. Get on with it.”
Rubbing her claws together, Ruane launched herself into the air and grabbed the link with the gloves, the magnetic nodules bonding to the chain. The gondola swayed under the force of her jump. She pulled herself upward by pressing her palm into the chain link, removing the magnets as Emre had shown them. Her grip faltered, though, some of the magnets jarring loose, accompanied by a screeching sound as the gloves dug into link. Steel on steel. The shrill pitch was muffled as the engine thrummed, but Ruane slipped further, her magnets not creating enough grip, not holding as they should.
Lojen’s heart jumped into his throat as his sister dropped a few more inches, her feet dangling, tail flapping in the empty air. But then she found her grip again, the magnets taking hold. Slowly, she hauled herself up, climbing with primal dexterity. Soon, she was over the top of the chain.
“Justice, protect me.”
Ruane was now more than twenty feet behind him, crawling deftly along the links. He spun and saw the other gondola was now a mere one hundred feet away. He couldn’t waste any more time.
Gods above. I can’t do this. I can’t. O Gods. I can’t.
“Lojen!” Ruane screamed into his earpiece. “Stop pissin’ ‘round!”
His throat was dry; his heart raced. I can do this, he told himself.
Summoning all the courage remaining, Lojen crouched, his thighs burning with tension. The wind whipped at his sleeveless vest; his tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. O Gods. O Gods.
