Eve of Destruction (37 page)

They’d also made some serious inroads as a group for the first time. They had recovered the journal, they had finally gotten some answers from Maltus, and even their meeting with Polard had been at least modestly informative. All in all, they had very little to complain about and a lot to be grateful for.

And yet despite all of that, Eve could feel the collective sigh of relief from the entire party the moment the train started moving away. She understood perfectly; just knowing they were getting out of here was like an enormous weight being lifted from her shoulders.

Then she thought about her mother’s vision again, and all the weight came crashing right back down upon her.

 She sighed and tried to reposition herself on the stiff wooden bench. She sat next to Zach, and they were squeezed so tightly together that it was difficult to even cross her legs. The other three—Aram, Danev, and Shaedra—all sat facing them on an adjacent bench. As a whole the group had barely spoken since leaving the hotel.

That was fine with her. Last night’s conversation with Maltus had left her drained, and right now more than anything she just wanted to go home, curl up in her bed, and forget this entire trip had ever happened.

If only it was that easy.

“At least this is a short trip,” Zach muttered as he shuffled his arms together.

“Relatively speaking,” Danev grunted. The big man was obviously even more uncomfortable than the rest of them squished together so tightly on his bench. “I’d almost prefer a carriage.”

Eve nodded and opened the pack sitting in her lap. Her mother’s journal sat there right at the top, taunting her each and every time she looked at it. She hadn’t touched it since yesterday afternoon, and she didn’t want to now, either. So far, all it had brought her was misery.

But it wasn’t fair to the others to leave it alone. They still hoped the journal might have a miracle solution hidden somewhere within its words. She’d only skimmed most of the last forty pages or so, and now was as good a time as any to finish the job.

Eve cracked it open and flipped towards the back where she’d stopped. A moment later she realized there was something wrong with the pages—two of them were stuck together.

“Something wrong?” Shaedra asked, one eyebrow cocked. 

“I’m…not sure,” Eve murmured, rubbing her fingers along the edge of the pages. “I think two of the pages are glued together or something.”

The Vakari frowned as she squinted at it. “It’s a spell, but the magic is faint.”

Eve glanced down to the page again. She thought about weaving to see if she could detect the lingering Fane energy but decided against it. Too many sets of eyes were on them here, and too many ears could be listening to whatever they had to say…

“It’s easy to fix,” Shaedra said, reaching out towards the pages. Eve didn’t even have time to flinch away before a wisp of Fane energy danced off the other woman’s fingertips and flickered across the paper. A second later the pages neatly came apart.

 “Have a care,” Aram warned coldly, glancing about to see if any of the other passengers had seen the spell. “This isn’t the place for that.”

Shaedra ignored him. Her eyes remained fixed on Eve. “What does it say?”

Eve looked back down at the journal. The script on this particular page was unlike the rest. It wasn’t the same language; the entire alphabet was completely different. She recognized a few of the symbols, though, and an old memory stirred in her thoughts. It was something she hadn’t thought of in a long, long time…

“Zach, do you remember when my dad used to try and teach us ancient Agean?” she asked him in a hushed whisper.

His brow furrowed and he nodded slowly. “Yeah, vaguely. We were what, six?”

“Thereabouts. He insisted it would be important if we ever wanted to be multilingual. Agean had lots of basic ideograms incorporated in many modern languages, just not Esharian.”

“I don’t remember the reason,” he admitted. “I just know I was bored.”

“Well, do you recognize this alphabet?”

His cheek twitched. “That’s definitely Agean. I couldn’t tell you anything else about it, though.”

“Mom used to say dad was one of the only people in the country who could speak it. You know how he was—he spoke ten languages before he was fifteen.”

“So why would…?” he trailed off as his eyes flicked to Shaedra then back to Eve. “He taught your mom too, right?”

“I’m sure he did. But why would she write a one-page entry in Agean and then hide it behind a spell?”

“A message,” he reasoned. “Either for him or for you?”

“So what does it say?” Shaedra asked as she leaned forward.

“I have no idea,” Eve said with a sigh.  

Zach put his finger on one of the symbols. “I’m pretty sure that’s your name. Do you remember when he had that piece of parchment with ‘Evelyn’ written in all kinds of languages on his office wall? I know I’ve seen that before.”

“So it is a message for me,” Eve breathed, her stomach suddenly twisting into knots. “And I can’t even read it.”

Zach glanced up. “I don’t suppose you can—”

He cut himself off when he realized Shaedra wasn’t looking at them anymore. Instead she was staring out of the window, squinting as if trying to make out something in the distance.

“Trouble?” Aram asked.

“Someone is approaching the train,” she said distantly. Her eyes nearly rolled back into her head.

Zach shook his head. “How can you tell that? There’s no way you can see through that smudge on the glass—”

“I don’t need to see what I can feel,” she told him, turning to Aram and sharing a meaningful glance with the Eclipsean.

His face hardened and his body visibly tensed in response. “How many riders?”

“A dozen, give or take.”

“Riders?” Eve stammered. “Chasing down a train?”

“Intercepting,” Shaedra corrected, “and I doubt they’re here looking for drakes.”

Eve quickly buried the journal back inside her satchel. Was this Chaval? Was he finally going to make an attempt to get this journal back? Perhaps he just wanted to kill her like before…

Gunfire thundered outside the window, easily audible over the rumbling of the train. Then the screams of terrified passengers drowned everything else out. Some huddled in their chairs while others risked cautious glances out the window to locate the source. Eve, for her part, remained locked in place. Her thoughts flashed back to the night at the
Calio
, to the bullets blasting into their room. Anger had freed her there, given her the strength to move and function…

“A train heist,” Zach muttered, reaching into his jacket and putting a hand on his revolver. “You have to be screlling kidding me.”

“He doesn’t want us to leave,” Danev said softly, his momentary doze immediately forgotten. He glanced to his bodyguard. “Deal with them.”

Aram was already on his feet. He pulled a pistol from a holster Eve didn’t even know he had and ignored the terrified shouts of the other passengers as he sprinted towards the back of the car.

“You’re not going alone,” Shaedra grumbled after him. “In fact, you should really wait here.”

Aram didn’t even glance back at her as he pushed his way into the other car. Shaedra just grunted and shook her head.

“Typical,” she muttered, and then started to follow him.

Zach stood and grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

She glanced back at him. “Where do you think? Outside.”

“On a moving train?” Eve asked. “Are you crazy?”

“Sometimes,” Shaedra murmured, eyeing Zach up and down. “You were a soldier, right, kid?”

Zach nodded. “Yes.”

“Then keep them safe. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“You can’t—”

“Let her go,” Danev said, placing a restraining arm on Zach’s. “The rest of us should stick together in case we get boarded.”

Zach scowled like he was about to protest, but then sighed in resignation. It was just as well, since Shaedra was already gone.

***

When Chaval had told Amaya about the train heists that had once plagued the longer, rural sections of the first Arkadian railroad tracks, she’d assumed it was hyperbole designed for dramatic effect. How insane or desperate did a thief have to be to actually try to board a moving train and steal its cargo? The entire premise was ludicrous. Talam had very few trains and had never experienced this problem, but she liked to think that even if her home country had a massive rail network, the average Talami criminal would be sensible enough to stick to bank robbery or something similar.

Later Chaval had clarified that actual heists didn’t involve men leaping from horseback onto a moving boxcar. Instead, a team on the inside of the train would force it to stop while the riders eventually came along to assist later. That made a lot more sense, and right now their team on the inside of the train was already moving into position.

Unfortunately, the presence of the Vakari meant that any plan relying solely on an inside job was very likely to fail. And so here she was, riding at full tilt with a dozen men after a moving train, just like the idiotic heist fantasy she’d concocted in her mind. The difference was that she wasn’t planning on throwing herself from horseback—several of her associates were magi.

And that changed the rules completely. 

Their horses angled in on the train as they galloped at full bore, and the two men leading the charge drew their pistols. They each fired off a salvo when they closed within thirty meters, the purpose of which was twofold. Firstly, their men inside needed to know when it was time to move; and secondly, they wanted to spread as much panic as possible. That part of the plan she understood and approved of perfectly. The follow-up was what terrified her.

The two point men holstered their weapons and veered away as a second pair swept in past them. This duo moved within a few meters of the train, waiting for one of the half-open boxcars to catch up with them. They crouched up on their horses, and anyone watching from inside the train would probably think they were actually crazy enough to try to hop off the saddle and roll inside the car.

Instead a swirling vortex of wind and lightning materialized above them, looking for all the world like a tiny tornado reaching out of a thunderstorm. A second later the funnel dropped down and completely engulfed the riders—and suddenly the two men were standing comfortably inside the open boxcar.

Amaya took a deep breath and stood higher in the saddle. Her legs already ached from all the movement, but she bit down on her lip and forced herself to stay steady just as the magi had warned her. Out of the corner of the eye she saw them repeating the same spell, and the same vortex of air rippled just above her. She released her grip on the reins and stood even higher—

And then her entire world became a bright, searing light, as if someone had opened a window facing straight at the noon sun. She could still hear the rush of wind, the galloping of hooves, and even the screeching of the train on the rails, but she couldn’t move. For a moment she thought she might be dead, that either the two mercenary magi had turned on them or perhaps just screlled up the spell…

Her stomach wrenched, and then she was inside the boxcar, slamming against one of the metal walls. One of the men reached out to steady her, and she gasped for breath and waited for her balance to return. Somehow, after that, the thought of manually jumping from her horse didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.