Page 83 of War Bound

Rolling, she located her derringer a few feet away and grabbed it. Only when she pushed to her feet did she feel the pounding at the back of her head and the pain flaring all along her back.

In the distance, a plume of smoke and fire rose into the sky. Was that the steamboat? The cargo of guns and ammunition waiting to be loaded?

Had Farrendel survived?

As much as she wanted to rush back and check, she’d promised Farrendel. Her sole mission right now was to get away safely with the identity of the traitors in both Escarland and Tarenhiel.

A few yards away, Mark Hadley lay face down on the ground, blood oozing around a foot-long shard of metal jutting from his back. If he wasn’t already dead, he soon would be.

Some of the burning brands of wood had fallen onto the roof of the warehouse. If not put out, the whole warehouse would burn, exploding the ammunition stored inside.

She might as well help it along. She couldn’t let those weapons fall into the hands of the trolls. Perhaps Escarland’s army would get here in time and recover them, but she couldn’t take the risk. Better to destroy them.

After gathering a few of the burning chunks of wood, she threw them into the warehouse’s open door, watching as they landed on the stacks of crates.

When the fire ate through those crates and sparked the ammunition stored inside, this warehouse’s explosion would make the previous one look small.

Hopefully Farrendel decided to escape by the river. If he was still here when this warehouse exploded, he most likely wouldn’t survive.

She couldn’t think about that. She needed to get herself out of there as quickly as possible.

As she rounded the end of the warehouse, she spotted the train, unhooked from the rest of the cars and now turned around to face back into Escarland. It even appeared to be shuddering with a slight vibration, as if powered up and waiting. Perhaps Lord Bletchly hadn’t intended to stick around long. He would probably want to get back to Aldon as quickly as possible to allay any suspicion when Essie turned up missing, then dead.

As he was most likely dead, given he had probably been near that steamboat and Farrendel’s magic, Essie was going to commandeer his train.

She dashed toward the train, then scrambled onto the engine’s cab.

The engineer started, his eyes widening at her appearance. “Princess! What...”

She would’ve thought him an innocent who hadn’t known his train had carried a kidnapped princess if he hadn’t lunged at her.

She raised her derringer, halting him in his tracks. In her entire life, she’d never had such furious heat coursing through her veins. “Get this train moving. Now.”

“If you shoot me, I won’t be able to drive this train.” The engineer eased closer, as if he still intended to jump her and wrest the gun from her fingers.

“I’ve toured enough trains and been given enough demonstrations, I’ll figure it out.” Essie kept the gun rock steady, pointed at his chest. The biggest target, as Julien had taught her. “Now that warehouse is on fire and could explode any minute. You can either die from a bullet or an explosion or you can get us out of here. Your choice.”

His eyes widened yet again before he flicked a glance toward the warehouse. He sprang to the controls, yanking one lever back, then shoving another one forward as far as it would go.

A whining crackle filled the air, and the engine gave a shudder. Metal screeched against metal as the wheels struggled to turn against the iron rails. Slowly, inch by inch, the train crawled forward and gathered speed.

Essie didn’t dare take her eyes off the engineer, not even to check on the burning warehouse. How long would it take for the ammunition in the crates to catch?

Agonizingly slowly, the engine gathered speed. Essie braced herself against the wall, counting each chug of the wheels, each beat of her heart.

The minutes ticked by. The train engine sped along the tracks now, the wind whipping past the open windows.

A roar sounded behind them. A gust of wind battered the sides of the engine house, blasting in through the windows. Moments later, the floor heaved beneath them, the car tilting.

Essie braced herself against the wall, a scream choking inside her throat. Were they going to derail? How badly would they be hurt if the engine went tumbling?

The wheels crashed back onto the tracks with a horrendous squeal. The whole train engine shuddered, then snapped into place, clacking forward smoothly once again.

After easing back on the lever Essie guessed controlled speed, the engineer turned to her. She expected him to say something. Perhaps ask a question.

But he grabbed an iron poker from its hook on the wall, a leftover from when this train was steam-powered before its conversion to magical power. Lunging, he swung it at her.

She ducked and stumbled backwards, her back striking the wall of the engine house.

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